Before Good and Evil
by WofOZ
Summary: Sam and Dean are back to normal, but Sam's hiding something and Dean knows it. With a small Sprite's life in danger and powers of a nature no man can explain, the boys are definately in for the ride of a life time... After the vacation that is!
1. Oh man, that can't be good!

I'm baaaaaaaack! Hello to everyone! This story is a bit of a continuation from my other story "Switched? Uh Oh…" Little details might make a bit more sense if you read that one first but it's not completely necessary. Everything is kind of summed up in the first little bit of this story.

Hope you'll all read and review!

Enjoy!

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Dean shook his head and started running. In the past few months he'd noticed something about his brother. They'd get coordinates, phone call or quick visit from their father telling them of a new hunt they should check out… and they'd go. No questions asked, no argument nothing.

At first Dean had been ecstatic that Sam was finally warming up to the idea of hunting. He'd finally accepted it as what the Winchester's did best and was ready to start kicking ass with the best of them. The best being Dean, of coarse. But recently it had been more then Sam not questioning a job. Not only had Sam's hunting skills sharpened to a point where even Dean was now having trouble keeping up with him, but the youngest Winchester seemed to be _enjoying_ the hunts.

On more and more hunts, as was the occasion now, Sam would smile before breaking into a sprint, racing Dean _to_ the supernatural occurrence. The last hunt they were on Sam had even gone so far as to say,

"Race ya!" But there was no race to be had. As much as Dean hated to admit it, his brother's freaky long legs would out run Dean every time.

Part of Dean thought it was great that the two of them were finally having fun and the horrible realities of their life weren't weighing so heavily on Sam anymore. But another part of him was growing a tiny bit concerned. Sam's transition had happened so quickly, almost too quickly. It didn't seem like a kid who'd spent months of his life pinning over a lost girlfriend and seeking revenge would all of a sudden say, 'okay, demons dead, what's next?'

Dean had had the pleasure of experiencing Sam's nightmare's first hand when several months ago they'd inadvertently been switched into one another's bodies. The switch happened when trying to return from fighting a sleep demon on another plane. The only way they were able to switch back was thanks to the help of a group of rather odd, yet dedicated Lunar Sprites. One in particular, named Bryson who Sam had sworn up and down was a miniature version of the middle Winchester.

However when Dean's consciousness had been in Sam's body an odd thing had happened. Powers beyond any of their wildest dreams had come to light and soon enough the demon that had killed Mary and Jess reared it's ugly head. They'd fought the thing off long enough for Sam to get back into his body, trap the demon there where slowly, it had died.

Since that day Sam's body had lost use of it's powers again and a vision had yet to take him again. Sam was just a normal guy, or so it seemed. Every now and then Dean would have a nightmare of that night they'd had to return Sam's abilities back into his body. He could still picture his brother standing on that Sprite altar with a glare unlike any human or supernatural thing he'd ever seen. Wicked red eyes with slices of vibrant yellow etching them like demonic rays of sunshine. Nothing more had come of that look or the powers that had almost destroyed the Sprite's home.

A day or so after they'd left the small town farm Dean had asked Sam if he remembered what happened that night on the altar. Sam played dumb and said 'not a thing.' Dean knew his younger brother and knew Sam was hiding something. However Dean also respected Sam and knew if something were really wrong, Sam would tell him…

Theoretically, he hoped.

There was one thing, that no matter how curious Dean was, he was liking. Sam was finally hunting like Dean knew his brother could. Dodging, weaving, leaping, swiping, running, shooting, stabbing, dousing, burning… Sam was mastering them all. And in the process the boys had helped a lot more people in a less amount of time then they had in the past.

Hunts that used to take three or four days were now taking one or two. They'd get up bright and early, because Sam now slept like a dead sloth on a hot day and head out to do research. They'd become better at that too, diving and conquering. Usually by noon they'd have something and come nightfall they were already to banish, kill or exorcise what ever the supernatural maybe.

The demon was gone but evil was still out there and Sam and Dean were stopping it, left, right and center. So much so that Dean was finally having a thought that he never thought would enter his incredibly good looking head; God, how he needed a vacation. Because as much as the boys were getting better at hunting, they'd still get their dings, nics, scrapes, bruises and broken bones.

Since the demon had been killed, Sam and Dean had barely gone four days without killing something or researching it. A day ago they were in Ohio exorcising a poltergeist now they were in Montana chasing down a Rawhead in the woods. Montana was a nice state, pretty, even Dean had to admit. They'd driven past some gorgeous mountains that even _he_ wouldn't mind camping by.

He'd yet to suggest the idea to Sam however as the moment they'd settled at their roadside motel, the young Winchester was out of the car and on his lap top. Dean's body still ached from the punishment it took while handling a haunted church a week ago. And as much as it pained him to say it, a nice cabin in the woods at the foot of a beautiful mountain or by a nice cool lake. A few cases of beer, some food supplies and a weekend, maybe a bit more. No cell phone coordinates or email or researching, just two brothers, relaxing like normal human beings.

Dean skidded to a halt in the dark woods not believing what he had just thought. _Sam _was the one that complained about not having a normal life, not him.

BLAM shuck-shuck BLAM shuck-shuck BLAM

"WHOOOOOOOOO!" Dean wasn't just ripped from his thoughts he was actually startled into dropping his own weapon when he heard the blasts from Sam's shotgun. Blasts followed by an oddly out of place cry of elation.

Dean snapped too and started running again, only to run a short distance to a less dense part of the forest where Sam stood over the body of the Rawhead they'd been hunting. Sam had his shotgun in one hand slung over his shoulder like he was straight out of a John Wayne moving. As Dean approached, a bit more out of breath then he'd like to have been, Sam swung his head toward him.

"Holy shit, Dean did you see that thing's freaking head explode?" Sam asked. Dean smiled at his brother's enthusiasm and looked down to the creature that was indeed, minus half it's head and for that matter, upper torso.

"Nice going, but you know you only needed to shoot it in the heart… _once_," Dean replied.

"Pffffft," Sam said waving a hand, "Where's the fun in that?" Looking at his brother again, Dean wondered oddly what the man was thinking. Sam was looking at the body again, grinning like he'd just won a million dollars. "Let's torch this sucker and get back on the road. We can hit the road and be in Washington by nightfall tomorrow."

"What's in Washington?" Dean asked.

"Haunted girl's private school," Sam said wiggling his eyebrows, "Come on," he said giving his brother a nudge, "This job is a 'damsel in distress' gimme job! I researched it on our way here and I think…"

"Sam!" Dean blurted out. Sam snapped his shot gun up and started swinging it around them searching the darkness for an unseen foe.

"What? Where is it?" he demanded. Dean sighed and realized as much as he needed a vacation, Sam needed it more. His brother was _way_ to high strung at the moment.

"There isn't anything Sam," Dean replied. "And I'm pretty sure if there was, you would have already killed it by now." Sam looked at him inquisitively but lowered his gun with a smile.

"Then what is it?" he asked. Dean took a deep breath and hesitated. Before the demon it would have been Sam in this position, it would have been Sam who would be telling Dean to slow down and maybe take a break. But Dean couldn't wait for the old Sam to come back. True they were in their own bodies and had been for sometime but it just seemed at the moment, they'd switched roles.

"Sam look at us," he sighed. "We've barely taken a long enough break to zip down and take a piss. I was thinking… I mean maybe we should… I dunno, take a vacation." Sam's gaze was unreadable for a moment, he blinked and then blinked again.

"Vacation?" he asked as if the words held no meaning for him.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "This is a nice place around here, we could get a cabin and just… relax for a few days." Sam started laughing but then stopped when Dean scowled at him.

"You're serious?" he asked. "You actually want to take a vacation?" Dean rolled his eyes and pulled out the lighter fluid from his jacket pocket.

"Never mind, it was stupid," he huffed. He started dousing the Rawhead's body in accelerant. Had he known his brother was going to dismiss him so quickly he surely would have kept his mouth shut. Now he just looked like an kicked puppy with his tail between his legs.

"No," Sam replied. Just as Dean was about to strike a match he paused and looked back to his brother. It was hard to see him in the dark half moon lit night but Dean had heard the fatigue finally register in Sam's voice.

"No, what?" he asked. Sam sighed and shook his head, his long hair bouncing from side to side. Since the incident Sam had dubbed, 'the ultimate punishment of all things Dean related' or as Dean called it, 'Sammy needed to shave that mop', the youngest Winchester had proudly grown his hair back and then some.

The look was still similar to the way Sam had always kept it since his teen years but now it was just a bit longer. Even more in his eyes and even more annoying to Dean and their father.

"No it's not a stupid idea," Sam replied. Dean snapped his head back surprised at his brother's response. Then he snapped his head back again, actually hurting himself a little, surprised that he had been surprised by Sam's reply.

"So… we take a break?" Dean asked. "Find a cabin around here?"

"Do ya one better big brother," Sam smiled. "Jess and I came to Montana a few times…" Dean felt his heart quicken it's pace, it was the first time since the demon had been destroyed that he'd heard his brother even mention the deceased love of his. Disturbingly, that comforted Dean.

"I'm sorry I didn't realize…"

"Nothing to apologize for Dean," Sam cut him off. "Anyway she and I came here once and stayed in a cabin at a resort maybe a half hour drive from here. Jess and I made friends with the old woman that owned the place and she said if we were ever in her neck of the woods again, we should stop by." Dean suddenly felt awkward staying at a place that would hold so much memory for his younger brother and didn't want to put him through such an event.

"Maybe we should just move on," he said. "We can take a vacation after we pick up some private school girls… the legal age ones of course."

"Grindin' my gears Dean, no sixteen year olds?" Sam laughed.

"Cradle robber," Dean joked back. The brief humour soon dissipated again as Dean fiddled with the match in his hand. "Seriously Sam, if you don't want to stop…"

"Dean come on," Sam said, once again cutting his older brother off, "I loved Jess and yeah this place will have memories but… good memories. It'd actually be nice to go back there. I guess it just caught me off guard that _you'd_ be willing to go there." Dean smiled, glad his brother probably couldn't see his face in the dark night.

"It's settled then," he replied. "We burn Mr. Raw here and then go find that nice old lady and see if she'll give us a free stay."

"Dean," Sam warned. Dean struck the match and looked back down at their fallen prey.

"Okay, okay," he laughed. "We'll just ask for a discount." He dropped the match and winced as the bright blaze shrunk his retinas back to size. It always amazed Dean how hot and how quickly a body exposed to lighter fluid, could burn. Dean mused that maybe the supernatural wasn't very flame retardant or maybe they just had, explosive personalities… Dean smiled.

"Dean?"

"What is it Sammy?" he asked. The fire curled and danced as the body of the Rawhead was consumed.

"I uh… I believe I have myself a predicament," Sam replied. Dean started to turn to make fun of his little brother for sounding like an idiot but never even cracked a smile. In the light of the fire Dean was finally able to see his brother properly… and the blood that came with him. A large gash, probably made by the Raw's claw traced from the back of Sam's hand all the way up to a nick on his bicep. The wound was deep and was still bleeding all over the place.

"Jesus Sam," Dean exhaled. He quickly pulled a roll of gauze from his pocket and started wrapping. Before the demon an injury such as this would require one of their shirts to patch up, until they could get back to the car. Or sometimes it would even require them to get back to their place of residence at the time. But Dean had gotten smarter now, instead of letting himself or Sam bleed to death before they could get the necessary supplies, he started carrying something's with him. Gauze was always there, as was a small tube of Tylenol and some disinfectant.

"Hey Dean?" Sam asked. Dean looked up at his little brother's face as he finished wrapping and tied the gauze off, most likely the wound would need stitches later.

"Yeah Sam?" he replied. His brother's face was paler then it should have been and he teetered a little but seemed to be fairing alright.

"I definitely think I'm ready for vacation to start now," he replied. Dean smiled as did Sam. After throwing his brother's good arm over his shoulders for support, Dean walked the two of them back to the Impala and on to a much needed break.

The next morning the two of them were quick to pack up their things and check out of the stingy motel that probably hadn't seen a real maid since the 70's and hit the road. Soon after the pulled into a long winding dirt driveway underneath a sign that read, 'Shooter's Cottage Resort.'

The main building to the resort was a newer building, giving Dean comfort that it hadn't had time to gather spirits yet. It looked like a large homestead and had a very nice 'welcome travelers' sign out front. Inside was even nicer, front entrance way that led straight to a nice mahogany front desk.

Dean kept a careful eye on his brother, who'd had to suffer through forty stitches the night before with nothing more then a few swigs of hard liquor and dinged the bell. As he waited for someone to come he looked at his brother again. Sam was a bit pale, but better then the night before. When Dean had brought Sam into the motel the comment that Sam looked like the walking Dead had slipped out.

Sam, though ready to collapse had weakly smiled at Dean and simply said, "Brains."

Sam caught Dean staring at him and scowled.

"Dude, it's just a flesh wound, I'm not going to keel over and die," he said. Dean shrugged.

"I'm just saying you still look a little pale," he replied. "You sure you're okay?"

"Get of my back Dean," Sam suddenly hissed. Dean took a step back wondering where his brother's sudden change in attitude had come from.

"Easy killer," he said. "Seriously, you take a bitch pill this morning?" Sam narrowed his eyes and looked like he was about to say more when suddenly he stood taller and smiled, looking over Dean's shoulder.

Dean turned to see a portly old woman approaching them with a nice sturdy Golden Retriever faithfully at her side. When the woman reached the desk she lifted the glasses that hung around her neck and placed them on her nose. Then she smiled and looked up, her smile grew.

"Samuel Winchester from Lawrence, Kansas. Stanford wasn't it?" she asked. Dean's mouth dropped open and he looked between the two people. Sam smiled a warm smile and nodded.

"Good memory Mrs. Shooter," he said. "It's good to see you again."

"You two love," the old woman smiled. "And as I recall I told you to call me Louise, haven't been Mrs. Shooter since the husband up and died on me in '92." Dean couldn't suppress a laugh at the woman's tough nature. She may have been in her elder years but this woman clearly had many more left in her. This drew Louise's attention and she leaned in a bit closer.

"Now by the laugh and the trouble making twinkle in your eye I'd say you're the brother… Dean was it?" she said.

"I'm impressed," Dean replied. "But then again a beautiful young woman such as yourself doesn't need to do much to attract a man's attention." Louise's face, lit up like a Christmas tree and she let out a hardy laugh before shaking her head and wagging a finger at Dean.

"I can see Sam was right about you," she laughed. "Always the charmer." Dean looked at his brother, happy for the compliment, Sam sighed and rolled his eyes with a smile.

"Anyway, we're wondering if we could rent a cabin for a few days?" Sam asked. "We're a little tight on money right now so if you have something cheap…"

"Don't be silly," Louise replied. "You and your Jessica reminded me so much of my Bernard and I when we were your age. It was a breath of fresh air to have you hear Sam and it will be again. This place needs more young people to liven it up. Will Jessica be joining the two of you?" Dean visibly winced at the words but kept his mouth shut, allowing Sam to respond how he felt necessary.

"Actually Jess was… in an fire just over a year ago. She… died," Sam said haltingly. It was clear by the look on Sam's face that he still didn't like to think to much about what had happened. Which made his behavior over the past few months rather strange. There were times when Dean was sure Sam had forgotten all about Jess or didn't seem to care anymore.

Now however Dean was seeing more of the old emotional, 'heart on his sleeve' Sammy. It was nice for the 'terminate everything that moves' Sammy to take a back seat, even if it was just for a moment.

"Oh dear," Louise said genuinely. She came around the front desk and pulled Sam into a hug. Sam returned the hug and actually looked as though he was really enjoying it. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know her long but you two seemed so in love."

"We were," Sam said as they pulled apart. The smile on his face was only slightly forced. "But my brother's been helping me a lot since her death," Sam said. Dean felt himself beam with pride, Mr. Big Brother, indeed! Even if he wasn't quite sure how he'd helped his brother, he was glad it was so.

"We'll then you boys can stay as long as you like," Louise said. "It's the off season so we don't get many customers staying out here. You boys can have cabin 26 right by the lake, free of charge."

"Mrs. Shooter… Louise we couldn't possibly stay for free, let alone cabin 26... That's the nicest one you've got on this land," Sam replied. Dean looked at his brother wondering just how many times Sam had actually come to this resort.

"Non negotiable," Louise said. She pulled a set of keys from a drawer under the desk and handed one to Dean and the other to Sam. "I want you to stay and stay well. You look pale Sam, like you need a good rest. That and I'd like to keep a charmer like Dean here around as long as possible. It's good for a woman's ego, you see." Both Dean and Sam laughed and accepted the keys.

"We'll find a way to repay you Mrs. Shooter," Dean said. He was all for getting free things, especially nice free things but even he felt a little guilty at the moment.

"You can repay me by having a nice time and joining me for tea tomorrow afternoon. My bridge partner Midge is coming by and I know she'd like to see the boy who saved her life again," Louise said. "I know I'm still thanking you for that day." Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at Sam curiously. Sam had gone an interesting hue of red and was looking down at his hands.

"Saved their lives?" he echoed.

"It was nothing," Sam replied sheepishly. Louise snorted.

"Horse manure," she said. "Midge and I would be dead if Sam hadn't stopped that ghost from taking our hearts!" This time, when Dean's head snapped back, he actually heard his neck crack slightly.

"Ghost?" he spat. Then he realized the woman in front of them seemed perfectly fine with the idea.

"Oh yes," Louise said. "The old homestead was built by early settlers a man had died after starving himself to death when his wife killed herself, leaving a note blaming him for everything. People said the woman took his heart out so… guess he was trying to take everyone else's. Midge and I were playing bridge like always when that spirit appeared and your brother came charging in tossing salt all over my floors." Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sam had done nothing all his life but weep and moan for a normal life when it turned out, even at Stanford he'd still gone on a hunt of his own.

"Is that true?" he asked. Sam nodded sheepishly then shrugged.

"I didn't know that when Jess and I first stayed," he replied. "But it was a simple tortured spirit that had attached itself to that house."

"And now?" Dean asked, never one to leave a job unfinished.

"The old homestead was old and rotten anyway," Louise replied. "Sam… what was it… salted and burned the bones?" Sam nodded, still blushing furiously. "He burned the bones and the ghost never came back. Just in case though I went through with plans to build a new homestead anyway and tear down the old one."

"Smart move," Dean replied. But still he was shocked by the admonition that his brother had gone on a hunt while he and their father had believed Sam, safe and sound in university.

"Well anyway," Louise said. "Tea's at noon and I expect you both to be there. I've got chores to get done and staff to order around. Sam you know you're way to 26 right?" Sam nodded, his colour still hadn't changed from it's terribly embarrassed hue. Dean looked at Louise and smiled as best he could under the circumstances. His brother had flat out lied to him and it hurt.

"Thanks so much Mrs. Shooter, we'll see you tomorrow," he said. Then like that he walked out the door back to the Impala.

The short drive to the cabin had been in total and utter silence, save one or two directions from Sam. Dean was angry, he was furious Sam would have been so reckless and gone into a hunt alone.

However once inside the cabin Dean was momentarily derailed from his anger. It was bungalow style with two doorways leading to bedrooms on the road side of the house. The main living room was slightly lowered with three large couches facing a huge bay window that overlooked the lake. The kitchenette was the closest thing to the doorway as was the bathroom opposite it. Dean wasn't just inside a nice log cabin, he was in paradise.

"Dean." So much for paradise. Dean's wonderment came crashing back to reality as he remembered just how upset he was. With a huff, Dean moved toward one of the bedrooms and tossed his duffle inside before returning to the main room. Sam did the same although he placed his duffel bag down with considerable more care then Dean thought necessary. It hadn't gone unnoticed that Sam had once again forgotten to zip up the duffel.

"What the hell Sam?" Dean spat. "How in your right mind could you be that stupid?" Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the main room to face off with Dean.

"It was a simply spirit," Sam said. "What was I supposed to do? Call you and dad? If, _IF_, you had called back those two sweet old women would have been dead. I did what I did because I had too."

"And what if you had gotten hurt? What if those women weren't so accepting of your ghost story?" Dean demanded. Sam flopped down on one of the couches and kicked off his shoes.

"I would have dealt with it Dean!" he yelled. "I was old enough to live without the two of you and I was damn sure old enough to make my own decisions regarding life and death. Hell, we've been making those kind of choices since we were kids!" Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, he could feel a headache coming on and they still needed to get supplies for the week.

"I know you can Sam and you did the right thing protecting those ladies but…"

"But WHAT Dean?" Sam yelled. "I don't get you sometimes! I finally start acting like the soldier the marine you call a father wanted and you turn into some sort of blubbering nostalgic pussy! The past is the past Dean, why do you have to go out of your way to dig it up!" Where this attitude was coming from Dean didn't know but the more it continued, the more he grew concerned. That and the fact that Dean had noticed his brother's hands were shaking slightly.

"I am allowed to worry about you Sam, I am your big brother," Dean asked carefully. Sam snapped his head toward Dean frighteningly fast and for a moment, Dean could have sworn he heard a low growl.

"Exactly, you're my brother," Sam snarled. "You're supposed to heckle me and not give a shit what I do. Face it Dean, you're not my god damn mother and you never will be!" That one cut Dean straight to the core. He'd always felt bad for Sam, knowing how hard it had been going through elementary school without a mother and a barely present father.

Dean pivoted on his heels and headed back toward the door. He had felt bad for Sam and had done everything in his power to give him a normal childhood, only to have it thrown back in his face.

"Dean, wait, I, I didn't mean it," Sam pleaded. Just as Dean reached the door Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Quickly Dean shrugged him off and harshly pulled open the door.

"I'm going to get supplies," he snapped. "You're so independent, you should be alright for awhile." And with that, Dean walked out the door and slammed it behind him. He knew Sam didn't really think that little of him and was grateful for all that Dean had done for him. Still what he said, stung. They both just needed a little time to cool off from one another. Maybe Sam would be back to relatively normal ways when Dean returned.

Sam leaned his head against the back of the door and touched it lightly as if he could some how physically take back what he's just said. He hadn't been thinking when the words slipped from his mouth. His headache was throbbing at his temples and his hands shook.

This happened every time he'd wait to long to quell his urge. For a few days after the demon had died, Sam thought he'd got a handle on the urge. He thought he'd got a handle and would no longer need to physically stop himself from getting out of hand.

But he could feel his whole body begin to shake and new something had to be done. Quickly and actually grateful Dean had left when he had, Sam rushed to his room and quickly reached into his bag. Inside he pulled out a small box with neatly cut air holes in the lid.

Opening it, Sam was greeted by two sad little eyes. Gently Sam reached in and pulled the small piece of tape from over Bryson's mouth. Then he pulled out a granola bar from his pocket, opened it and broke off a piece before holding it to Bryson's small mouth.

"I'm not hungry," Bryson said. Sam sighed and put the granola bar down.

"You have to eat Bryson, you've already lost some weight," he replied. It was the same routine they'd been going through since they'd left the Sprite's small home. Bryson would refuse to eat. Sam would tell him he had to. Bryson would reply back with something angry and spite filled…

"Don't pretend to care Sam, you're a monster!" Sam would sigh roll his eyes and simply get down to business with no further incident. Every now and then however Bryson would push it and Sam would struggle to control himself but usually managed to get a hold of it.

"You know if there was any other way I'd let you go in a heart beat but… Bryson you have to understand what you're doing for me," Sam said. He wiped off a space on the bureau and lifted Bryson out of the box, easing the tape from the Sprite's wings.

"You have a problem Sam, a problem that's turning you into a monster and you know it!" Bryson hissed. Suddenly Sam felt himself loosing control as he gripped the small Sprite and yanked him within inches of his face.

"Wrong," he snarled. "I have a necessity to _save_ myself from becoming a monster. Don't push me Sprite, you know what happens when I get upset." As expected Bryson's little eyes grew wide with fear as Sam's grip tightened. Sam was just reaching for Bryson's wings, when the little Sprite, changed the rules of the game.

"I know you need help," Bryson squeaked. "M, maybe if you talk to Dean about th--"

"DEAN?" Sam howled. The fire was building up in him, he could feel himself loosing control of his calm and growing angrier by the second. He started squeezing Bryson which was made evident by the small Sprite's gasping. "Are you insane? Listen you little bastard, if you even _think_ of trying to get Dean's attention to yourself I will come in hear and rip your damn wings off! They'll still be of use to me if you're dead and when that runs out I'll go back and find your little friends and do the same to them! You do NOT want me angry Bryson, do you?" Tiny tears trickled from Bryson's eyes as his red, oxygen deprived face turned away from Sam's gaze.

"No," he whispered. "I'm sorry, please." Sam barely heard the Sprite. Instead he held the sprite over the bureau and started flicking one of his wings. After a few flicks, sparkling dust started to come free and settle on the table. After several more flicks a considerable amount had settled on the table and Sam angrily wretched Bryson back up to his face.

"You cause yourself pain, Sprite. If you just _gave_ me the dust I wouldn't have to force it from you," he snarled. Bryson said nothing as Sam taped him up and roughly tossed him back into the box. He tossed in the granola bar as well, knowing the Sprite would eat eventually out of sheer need to eat. Then after securing the lid back on the box Sam slid the box under his bed toward the back so it was hidden behind the bedside table. He shoved his duffel bag underneath the bed as well, completely hiding the box.

Then Sam, who's started to twitch angrily, headed back to the bureau. However as badly as he was shaking at the moment he couldn't help but stop and stare at his reflection in the mirror. What looked back, would scare even veteran hunters like Dean and their father. Two red eyes with streaks of yellow, hair that was gradually loosing all it's colour and going a ghostly white and a skin that seamed almost… golden.

Tears of rage filled Sam's eyes as he stared at his horrid reflection, he hadn't asked for this. He'd never wanted to be a freak and it seemed every time he thought he was closer to normal, his dream would be ripped away.

Not wasting another second, Sam swept the Sprite dust into his hand and inhaled it into his mouth. The dust burned slightly as it always did and then began to tingle throughout his entire body. A wave of calm washed over Sam and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath, speeding up the effects. When he opened his eyes again normal Sam Winchester had returned in the mirror and he'd returned with a smile.

"You're okay Sam," he told himself. Then he turned to the door, "You'll always be okay."

Back in the living room Sam lowered himself to the couch and allowed the soothing sensation continue to magnify. Dean was right, maybe rest was a good thing at the moment. Sam was asleep even before he realized his eyes had closed.

Next to the dust bunnies and an old green duffle bag a small shuffling of a granola bar could be heard and with it, the tiny sobs of a heartbroken Sprite.

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TBC…

Oh my god… poor little Bryson! Sniff! Don't worry, Bryson will be okay I promise! Just bare with me!

As always an little sneak peak at the next chap;

… "_We should take a vacation more often," Sam smiled. "I could get used to this."_

"_Sam?" Dean sighed. He needed to know before it drove him insane. It had been driving him nuts since he saw it that morning but missed his chance to investigate._

"_Yeah?" Sam replied._

"_What's in the box under your bed?" For a moment Sam just looked at him then he sighed and turned away._

"_Picture's of Jess and some of her personal stuff… you didn't look did you?" he asked. Dean suddenly felt childish for being so curious._

"_You know me better then that Sammy," he said._

"_Yeah I do Dean," Sam sighed. "Look, the stuff in there is… I'm just not ready to show it to you yet okay? Promise me you'll let me keep my little slice of normal."_

"_Okay Sam," Dean said. "I wont touch the box, probably would be sick at all that mushy stuff anyway." Sam laughed and thumped Dean on the back._

"_Heaven forbid you be exposed to pictures of true love," he replied. Dean turned away laughing._

"_Gag me," he replied. And had already started forgetting about the box under the bed._

Hmm… dare you read the next chapter and find out if Dean can catch on that something is wrong? And wait… what IS wrong with Sam? Insert evil music here Mwa ha ha! Read and Review please!


	2. Yikes Didn't See That One Coming!

Sorry guys and dolls, this chapter's rather long, but I hope you stick with it for the long hall! It's _definitely_ worth it! I also hope you'll read and review for me because that's what keeps me going!

Oh and this chapter gets awfully intense toward the end. I mean, ANGST up the ying yang!

And to all my reviewers thus far and too the people who've put me on their fav list or put me in a community; thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys make this so much more fun for me!

Enjoy!

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When Dean returned he was surprised to find Sam fast asleep on the couch with a content smile on his face. It was good too see Sam sleeping but at the same time it just didn't seem natural. The way Sam's body was just so relaxed as if he didn't have a care in the world was a far cry from the kid Dean had known growing up. Still Dean would let it be for now. It was just about lunch time and he was hungry.

The next morning Dean awoke to the smell of something rather fantastic. Taking his stomach's lead he climbed from his bed with a yawn and stumbled from the room. As he excited he stuck his head into his brother's room to see if he was imagining the smell and that his brother would still be asleep.

But no, Sam's bed was empty. Dean was about to leave when he heard what sounded like a sneeze. Curious, he walked into the room and saw Sam's duffel bag sticking out half-hazard from underneath the bed.

"Nice Sam," he sighed. He leaned down to push the bag back under when he thought he heard yet another sneeze and froze. "If that is a rat I am SO not going to be happy," he hissed. Getting down on all fours and grabbing a gun from Sam's bedside table, Dean peered under the bed to meet the little furry rodent head on. Fighting demon monsters from hell was nothing. Hell Dean would even go up against another psycho human being if he needed to but there was one thing in all the world Dean just couldn't face.

Rodent's. Beady eyed, whisker sporting, long tailed, hairy bodied, tiny footed, undeniably hideous, rodents. And the sound they made, it was worse then a dentist drill, worse then the noise his Impala had made once when Sam pushed it on empty for too long. Dean would sooner step on to a plane then touch one of the little beasts and now was no different. Dean took a deep breath and braced himself for the inevitable incursion.

But there was no rodent, only a small plain gray box tucked back against the wall and the bedside table. Curious, Dean raised an eyebrow and reached for the box, wondering what his brother could possibly be keeping in there and praying to god Sam hadn't decided to pick up a pet rat.

"Dean!" Dean stopped short and retracted his hand when he heard his brother call from the kitchen. "Dean wake up I made breakfast!" Sam called. With that Dean's stomach rumbled, the box would have to wait.

Dean stood up and dusted himself off before heading back out to the kitchen where he found Sam placing scrambled eggs on two plates. The wondrous aroma of a big healthy breakfast made Dean's mouth water. He plopped down in a chair and took in the sight before him. Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, cheese, orange juice, blueberry pancakes, muffins, fresh fruit and a steaming pot of coffee.

"Man Sammy, what did I do to deserve this?" Dean asked. When Sam had woken up from his nap the day before the two brother's had barely spoken a word to one another. Eventually they went their separate ways again, Sam to his room and Dean down to the lake to get some sun and have a nice cold beer. When he's returned for dinner Sam was sitting in the living room waiting for him with an apologetic look on his face.

"Dean," he had said. "What I said earlier… it was stupid and I, I'm sorry you have to deal with so much of my shit. I'm also sorry I didn't tell you or dad about that ghost I took out." Dean had accepted the apology and wasn't really all that mad anyway. If anything he was concerned that Sam had once again, done an about face with his emotions.

All of a sudden the quiet, reserved and emotional Sam had once again appeared begging for his older brother's forgiveness. It was after that apology that Dean decided something was definitely wrong with his brother but what… he still had no idea. It could be attributed to where they were and if it reminded Sam of Jess or it could have been whatever was in that box Sam had clearly gone out of his way to hide. Either way, it needed to be dealt with and soon.

"What? A guy can't make his big brother breakfast?" Sam smiled. "You bought the supplies, I'm just returning the favor." He sat down across from Dean and nodded toward the food. "Well? Dig in!" he said. Dean picked up his fork but then paused and looked at his brother. Sam's skin seemed slightly pale and his eyes were a bit blood shot.

"How's the arm?" Dean asked. Sam had just popped a piece of bacon in his mouth but raised an eyebrow and swallowed.

"Fine, why?" he asked casually. Dean wanted to ask more but considering the fight they'd had the last time he'd tried to care for Sam, he decided keeping his mouth shut was best.

"No reason, pass the toast," Dean replied. Sam nodded vigorously and handed him the plate of toast. That's when Dean saw it, the plate was shaking, more importantly, Sam's hand was shaking it. Dean raised an eyebrow as he watched the limb shake before taking the plate and looking his brother in the eye. He was filled with worry when Sam sheepishly looked away.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I didn't ask," Dean replied.

"The shaking… it's nothing really," Sam said. "Just need a good shower and I'll be okay."

"Okay," Dean answered. He took a piece of toast off the plate and placed it on his own before handing the toast back. Sam's arms still shook but he quickly but the plate down so as not to be noticed so much. The overwhelming urge to ask his brother more questions made it difficult for Dean to eat his breakfast as if nothing were wrong. But he managed however and only snuck a few glances at his slightly tired looking brother.

When they were cleaning up afterward Dean decided to air on the side of caution and turned to his brother.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" he asked. Sam looked up at him and for a moment Dean was sure they were going to have another fight about him being over protected. But Sam shrugged and went back to drying dishes.

"I think that nap yesterday threw me off," he replied. "But I slept enough."

"You sure? Cause you look a little, I dunno, pale and your hands…"

"Dean I told you it's nothing," Sam interrupted. He sighed and picked up another dish, this time his hands were shaking much more violently.

"You can't tell me that's nothing Sammy," Dean said. "Are you sick? Is that it?" Clearly he was starting to bother Sam and he figured if he could just push it a bit more he'd get answers.

Dean was sadly mistaken however as his brother never got a chance to reply. Sam suddenly grunted and doubled over in pain, the dish slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Dean immediately got to his brother's side to help him. "What is it Sam? What's wrong?" he asked.

Shock was an understatement when Sam straightened himself up still with a pained face and shoved Dean away.

"I'm fine," he huffed. "I just… need some more sleep."

"You don't look tired Sam, you look like you're in pain," Dean replied. He tried to get close to his brother again only to have Sam push past him toward his room. Dean followed but had the door slammed in his face and locked with a click. He knocked on the door and tried to open it even though he knew it was futile. "Sam come on," he urged. "Let me help you! Tell me what's wrong?"

"I don't need your help!" Sam's strangled reply came back. "Just leave me alone for one god damn minute Dean!"

"Fine," Dean huffed. "I'm gone." He headed back over to the couch and dropped down picking up the remote to the tv. As he flipped through the channels he couldn't pay attention as his thoughts kept returning back to his ailing brother. What kind of big brother was he, that he couldn't figure out what was wrong with his sibling? It also was a big concern that Sam didn't seem to trust him to handle the truth well, which hurt even more.

Dean sighed, he knew he was failing his brother and for the life of him didn't know how to stop without finding out the truth. Maybe the answers lay in that box under the bed or maybe Sam just needed some time…

The middle Winchester frowned and looked at his brother's closed door. Was that it? Did Sam need time away from _him_? Was he the thing that was causing the youngest Winchester so much stress that it physically made him ill? The damning thoughts tied knots in Dean's stomach as he sank lower in his chair. A failure and now unwanted, so much for a happy vacation, maybe they should have kept going like Sam had originally wanted.

Or perhaps maybe the best thing to do at the moment would be to take sometime away from each other. It wasn't often you'd have siblings at their age sticking so close to each other as much as they did. Possibly in Sam's quest for normality he had realized this and wanted a break.

Dean considered that for a moment but then he shook his head. He'd given Sam more then ample opportunity to leave him. And he knew if Sam really wanted to be without his older brother, he'd leave as he pleased. It wasn't as though Dean was holding him against his will. Sam was a big boy and he would figure things out for himself...

…Dean hoped.

When tea time rolled around Sam and Dean headed back to the main homestead where Louise and Midge were eagerly awaiting them. Midge all but smothered Sam in kisses before the four of them sat down to tea.

As time passed and they chatted with the women about their grandkids and Montana life in general, Dean had clearly noticed another change in his brother's demeanor. Sam was smiling and joking and chatting like he was on top of the world. The two elderly women seemed to be loving it, thankfully they weren't catching on that something was amiss.

There was no point in lying to the women about what the brother's did because both of them pretty much already knew. They didn't go into detail but it was kind of nice to have a conversation without lying and not have people think they were crazy. Dean relaxed after a while and joined in the conversation explaining just how rock salt effects spirits.

Three o'clock rolled around and the tea and cookies were long since gone. Dean hadn't even been paying attention to the time and was surprised when he looked at his watch. He'd actually enjoyed the old women's company and was feeling rather good at the moment. But no matter how he felt, he still hadn't forgotten about his younger brother and that odd episode that had happened earlier that morning.

"Well I better get going," Midge said. "I have to get back to the ranch and make sure Harold doesn't burn down the house trying to make himself a sandwich." The group of people laughed as Midge stood. Sam stood as well and held out an arm for the woman.

"M'lady," he smiled. Midge laughed and hooked her arm under Sam's.

Dean watched them leave the room and turned back only to be surprised by the concerned look on Louise's face.

"Is something wrong?" Dean asked.

"You tell me sweetheart, he's your brother," Louis replied. Dean raised an eyebrow and looked from the doorway back to the old woman then leaned forward.

"You noticed it too?" he asked inquisitively. Maybe he wasn't the only one who was thinking something was wrong with Sam.

"All I know is that the last time that boy came here he was shy, apologetic and humble. Now he's edgy, bubbly and… something just seems not right about him," Louise said. Dean looked at her some more then sighed and shrugged.

"I know something's up, I'm just not sure what it is," he replied. "Every time I try and get answers he snaps at me and locks himself away from me." Now it was Louise's turn to sit forward with a raised eyebrow.

"And when you see him again, he's happy? Like nothing's wrong?" he asked. Dean nodded and grew concerned when the older woman sighed heavily and sat back. "With his pale skin and the edginess… A friend of mine had a son who was exactly the same."

"Oh?" Dean asked. "And what happened to him?" Louise looked Dean in the eye and he knew he wasn't going to like the answer.

"He overdosed on painkillers," she said gently. "Sad really, he'd been using for several months and no one had thought to check for them." Dean felt his heart rate quicken and his stomach turn over in disgust.

"Are you saying you think Sam… that he might be on drugs?" he asked. Many years ago on a hunt with their father Dean had gotten separated from the two. It was is a small city alley way in a not so great part of town. At 15 Dean had thought himself invincible and untouchable by anything but that night, that night he'd been scared out of his mind.

After searching for his dad and Sam, Dean had accidentally wandered into a group of individuals who were so high, Dean doubted if they'd ever come down. The look in their eyes had been crazy and hysteric. They shouted slurred sentences that didn't make any sense and then they'd tried to grab Dean. What they were after Dean would never know as his father and Sam showed up at just that moment and quickly removed him from the scene. Still Dean had been terrified that those people were so out of it and had for the first time, truly feared for his life.

Once they were safe, Dean had asked his father about those people in the alley and asked why they'd want to do that to themselves. John had looked at Dean and simply said, 'I don't ever want to find out why Dean. You and Sammy promise me you'll never go near that crap.' Dean didn't have to be told twice, nor did Sam, the fear had been evident on the young boys face during the extrication. Drugs wasn't something the Winchester's took lightly, then or ever. They skewed your perception of reality and could end up making you make mistakes. In this line of work, those mistakes could get you killed or worse… get a family member killed.

The idea that Sam might be on drugs sent shivers through Dean's body. He wanted to believe it wasn't true but couldn't bring his mouth to form the words.

"I'm not saying anything," Louise shrugged. "Only that I think you need to have a serious discussion with that boy before things get any worse." Dean looked back to the doorway where Sam had gone with Midge.

"Believe me I know," he sighed. "And I will." The idea that his little brother had turned to drugs to keep him going was sad and almost unbelievable. At the same time however it would explain a lot; the mood swings, the naps in the middle of the day, sleeping soundly, the shaking hands, pale skin and the constant need to be alone.

'Oh Sammy,' Dean thought to himself. 'What are you doing kid?'

Later that day after a nice lazy afternoon sitting on the deck of the cabin with some beers, Dean and Sam decided to head into the small town to a pub they'd passed on the way in. Since his conversation with Louise, Dean had kept a constant eye on his little brother. He tried to pay attention to all the little things about Sam.

After watching his brother, Dean made a note of all the things that would indicate his brother could possibly on drugs. Sam's eye twitched every so often, his hands shook and his body language was nervous and broken. All in all, Dean's suspicion grew and his heart sank even more. Finally Dean had had enough as they finished up their meals and sipped their beers. He opened his mouth to speak but Sam beat him to it.

"We should take a vacation more often," Sam smiled. His eyes were looking very droopy and content. He leaned back in his chair and let out a belch. "I could get used to this."

"Sam?" Dean sighed. He needed to know before it drove him insane. He just had to find out what was going on with his brother. However he didn't feel right flat out asking Sam if he was on drugs so he thought of another less direct way. A way that was simple enough to lead into the ultimate question. Something else that had been driving him nuts. Something driving him insane since he saw it that morning but missed his chance to investigate.

"Yeah?" Sam replied.

"What's in the box under your bed?" For a moment Sam just looked at him then he sighed and turned away. It had almost looked like a small amount of fear had danced across the man's features.

"Picture's of Jess and some of her personal stuff…" Sam turned back to Dean his eyes intense with an unnamed emotion. "You didn't look did you?" he asked. Dean suddenly felt childish for being so curious. If Sam was keeping a box of Jess's things he had no right to pry about that. And maybe that was why Sam was acting strange recently, maybe it was because he was working up the nerve to talk to Dean about what he was feeling. It made more sense then thinking Sam was on drugs.

"You know me better then that Sammy," he said.

"Yeah I do Dean," Sam sighed. "Look, the stuff in there is… I'm just not ready to show it to you yet okay? Promise me you'll let me keep my little slice of normal."

"Okay Sam," Dean said. "I wont touch the box, probably would be sick at all that mushy stuff anyway." Sam laughed and thumped Dean on the back.

"Heaven forbid you be exposed to pictures of true love," he replied. Dean turned away laughing.

"Gag me," he replied.

"Uh oh, I think I'm dieing." Dean whipped his head toward his brother ready to dial nine one one and call for help until he saw the goofy smirk on Sam's face. Then he followed Sam's gaze toward the jukebox in the corner where a rather good looking brunette woman swayed her voluptuous hips to the music. "Because this has got to be what heaven looks like," Sam replied. The woman was batting her eyelashes and winking at Sam and much to Dean's surprise, his little brother was reciprocating.

"Jesus Sammy, put your tongue back in your head," Dean said. But his words clearly fell on deaf ears as Sam stood up and finished off the last bit of his beer.

"Don't wait up for me Dean," he smirked. Frowning Dean reached forward and grabbed Sam's wrist stopping him short.

"It's five mile walk back to the cabin Sam. You can't walk back in the dark it's too dangerous," he said. Sam looked at Dean and then in absolute disgust at the hand on his shoulder. It was such an awful look that Dean retracted his hand as though it had been burned. Sam then looked back at him and smiled as if he hadn't just visually snapped.

"I don't intend to walk back in the dark," the young Winchester smirked. Then he looked back at the brunette who was still suggestively looking at him and biting her nail provocatively. "I intend to get a ride back with her in the morning," Sam added.

Before Dean could say anymore Sam was gone across the room pulling the brunette into his body and matching her movements to the music. Dean watched in astonishment as his brother not only danced, but danced well and seemed to be laying on all the charm Dean didn't even know his brother was capable off. Under normal circumstance Dean would have been cheering his brother on and thanking all the gods that be, that Sam had burst forth from his Emo shell. But not tonight, tonight it just seemed… wrong to see his little brother act in such a manner.

It was as though all of a sudden Sam didn't appear to care about Jess. Which didn't make sense considering the box that lay beneath his bed. A box that not seconds ago he'd been adamant about Dean not touching it. Everything was starting to come to a peak with Sam's unusual behavior and Dean knew it was starting to get out of his hands. Giving his brother one last look, Dean pulled on his jacket, finished his beer and headed out to the Impala.

Later he was walking up the steps to the cabin when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open just as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"Hello?" he answered.

"Dean?" His father's voice almost made Dean laugh. It was bad enough Sam had lost his mind but now his father was undoubtedly calling to ask them why they hadn't made their way out of Montana. Dean had briefly left a message with their father that morning saying that he and Sam were going to take a break for a few days. It had been a relief that their father hadn't actually answered the phone as Dean had no wish to say what he had to the man's face.

He could only imagine saying 'hey dad, we're going to chill for a bit,' and then having the man huffing and puffing about saving mankind. John would snarl and rage and probably say things he didn't mean but in the end, he'd be happy the boys knew where their limits lay.

"Hey dad," Dean sighed.

"Where's Sam?"

"Dad listen I… wait… what?" Dean had started getting his speech ready for why they needed a break and hadn't been expecting his father to ask anything else.

"Where's Sam, Dean?" John repeated. Dean closed the cabin door and flopped down on the couch.

"He's just in the shower, why?" Dean lied. His father may be okay with them taking a vacation but knowing Dean had left him at a bar with some brunette would undoubtedly get Dean lynched.

"Has he said anything to you?" John asked. Dean frowned at the cryptic tone his father was using.

"About what?" he replied.

"About anything Dean, this is really important." Sitting forward Dean looked to one side, it wasn't like his father to sound so worried about something.

"What's going on Dad?" he asked. "You sound spooked."

"I'm not spooked Dean," John said indignantly. "I just got a call from Missouri and I was… concerned for your brother." Dean let out a groan of discontent at his father's lack of specifics. Thankfully his father picked up on this and continued on without more encouragement. "Missouri said the Sprites at the Summers place have been acting strange. The Summers say it started the day we left them but recently it's gotten much worse. Did Sam say anything to you about that night at all? Has he remembered anything?"

"If he did, he hasn't told me," Dean replied. Then he sighed, as long as they were confronting strange happenings he might as well lay it all on the table. "But he's been acting a bit weird too Dad, it's like he's got split personalities or something."

"How so?" John asked.

"Well one moment he's happy and making me giant breakfasts and the next second he's all emo and angry," Dean explained. "I've been trying to get an explanation out of him but every time I ask him what's up he flips."

"Emo?" John asked. Dean would have laughed at the situation not been so serious.

"Emotional charged dad, dark thoughts, depressed," he tried to explain. For a long while Dean heard nothing but his father's breathing over the line. Then he heard a sigh and a grunt followed by the clear sounds of moving.

"Alright, where are you?"

"Shooter's Cottage Resort, in Montana just outside a town called Little Ridge," Dean replied.

"Good, stay there, I'm coming to you and we'll figure this out. If Sam's not going to tell us what's going on we might just have to make him," John sighed. The idea really didn't appeal to Dean but Sam's strange manner had gone on long enough. Answers had to be obtained and it would make it a lot easier for both of them if his father was there. Not that he'd ever admit that.

"How long until you get here?" Dean asked.

"Shouldn't be more then a day."

"You're that close?"

"I can be," John replied. Dean smiled, at least of all the strange things going on over the past few months one good thing had come from it all; John was actually making more of an effort to be a father.

"I'll see you soon then," he replied.

"Bye son." With a click, Dean snapped his phone shut and tucked it back into his pocket. Then he looked at his watch, it wasn't late but he was feeling tired from trying to understand his younger brother. Hopefully in the morning things would be easier to comprehend.

He kicked off his boots and shrugged off his jacket before heading toward his bedroom. A slight thud however caused him to stop short and listen. Another thud and this time Dean was sure it had come from Sam's bedroom.

Instantly Dean pulled a gun from his waist band and slowly, quietly inched into his brother's room. Taking a deep breath, he settled his nerves then kicked open the door and pounced inside ready to shoot.

… But there was nothing and no one there. The window was closed and locked and there wasn't a thing out of place. Dean even walked toward the closet and checked it out. Still he found nothing. He was seconds away from being convinced he was crazy when suddenly something bumped into his leg causing him to jump back in shock.

Looking down Dean was startled to find the box from under Sam's bed. The weird thing was, he could have sworn it hadn't been there when he'd first entered the room. Still, it provided him with the necessary push to see what it was Sam was hiding. If they were pictures and things of Jess, Dean would be relieved. Betraying Sam's trust was a small price to pay at the moment if it would help Dean gain some insight on his brother's condition.

"Please don't be a pet rat," Dean sighed. He reached down to pick up the box but was once again startled when the box slid away from him slightly.

"What the hell?" Dean asked. Pictures and inanimate objects didn't slid around. Before the box could slid any farther away from Dean he snatched it up and pressed his ear to it. After a second he could hear tired heavy breathing of a small animal or something. Dean pulled his head away and looked at the box, as his father's phone call came back to him.

The revelation hit him like a semi truck to the Impala.

"Oh no," Dean said as it started making sense. Sitting down on the bed Dean gently lifted off the lid of the box, gasped and nearly dropped it in surprise.

"Bryson?" he exclaimed.

Inside, ankles, wrists, mouth and wings taped up was a very pale, thin looking Sprite. For a moment Dean almost didn't recognize Bryson as the little guy was very sickly and his chest heaved like he was struggling just to stay conscious.

"Hold on dude, I'll get you out," Dean said. Bryson tensed slightly as Dean reached in for him but clearly had no energy to fight.

When Dean first met the Sprite, all those months ago, he hadn't really liked him. Bryson was a smart ass and seemed like all he wanted to do was party and cause trouble. However then Bryson had risked his life and saved Dean and Sam. It had definitely changed Dean's opinion of the Sprite and had actually caused Dean to miss the guy when they'd left…

…Apparently he wasn't the only one.

Very gently and with care toward the Sprite's fragile looking wings, Dean removed all the tape and lay the small guy in his hand.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"No I'm not alright!" Bryson wailed. "What the hell kind of question is that, you jackass?" Tiny tears streamed from his eyes as he furiously rubbed at them trying to maintain his emotions.

"How did you get here Bryson?" Dean asked. Bryson glared up at him but his condition just couldn't allow for the Sprite to look anything but pathetic.

"Sam grabbed me the day you left my home," Bryson spat. "He knocked me out and taped me up!" Dean was shocked to say the least, he couldn't believe Sam would do any such thing. Still the proof was in front of him and Sam _had _lied to him about what was in the box.

"Are you sure it was him?" Dean asked. Though he didn't sound nearly as convinced in his question as he'd liked.

"What? Did you think I tied myself up? That I wanted to live in a box away from my home for the passed three months? Yes Dean, yes that's EXACLTY what I planned to do with my life!" Bryson hissed. A small amount of Sprite dust came from Bryson but not nearly as much as the last time Dean had seen him this upset. Clearly the little Sprite was in bad health and needed help.

"Okay, okay, easy," Dean said. "Come on let's get you cleaned up and fed." He went to stand but Bryson clutched his sleeve causing him to look down again. The tears were gone but the look of absolute fear remained.

"Dean please," Bryson said. "You have to protect me. I can't… I just can't give him anymore." Dean instantly raised an eyebrow as he regarded the Sprite's haggard appearance.

"Give him anymore what?" he asked. "What's he been taking from you?"

"My dust," Bryson sniffed. His little eyes were starting to fill with tears once again which broke Dean's heart. Far be it from him to get all mushy over something so girlie but he just couldn't help but feel sorry for Bryson. If it was true that the Sprite had been forced to live in a box for the passed three months in such a horrible condition, Dean would be no better then the monsters he hunted if he felt nothing.

"Why would he need your dust?" Dean asked. Bryson shook his head.

"I can't… I can't say Dean… I, I'm afraid," he replied. Then he looked back up at Dean with wide eyes. "I'm afraid he'll kill me," he added.

"Bryson," Dean said immediately. "Sam's not capable of doing something like that but…" he hesitated, how could he deny what he was now seeing? Sam couldn't possibly be that cruel and there's no way Dean had lived with a shape shifter this long. Sam was just going through a rough time and there had to be a good explanation, still… "You're with me now buddy, I'll protect you no matter what. Don't worry we'll get you home again." Bryson looked only slightly comforted by Dean's words which only served to make the Winchester feel even worse.

"I'm so tired," Bryson sighed. He leaned back on Dean's hand and closed his eyes with a pained sigh. Dean gently nudged the little Sprite's shoulder trying to think of a way to make up for the horrors he'd suffered through recently.

"Hey," he said. "I've got chocolate ice cream in the freezer. What's say you take a warm bath in the sink then go to town on it?" Thankfully Bryson's cheeks pinked up slightly and he looked a little more awake.

"Ice cream? Really?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Dean nodded as he carried the Sprite into the bathroom and started filling the sink. "A box twice the size of you and it's all yours, anything else you want?" Now Bryson started looking like being trapped had meant nothing at all to him.

"Chips? Oh, oh and dude I have been jonesin' for a beer, got any?" he asked. Dean laughed and shook his head with amusement.

"What kind of guy would I be if I didn't?" he replied. He turned off the tap as the sink was filled up to the right height. "You take it easy and I'll be back."

"Dean?" Bryson asked. His small, fearful voice had returned and Dean looked at him curiously. "Sam… he… he's not here is he?" he asked quietly. Dean frowned, bothered that his brother could instill so much fear in such an innocent Sprite.

"Probably wont be back until morning," Dean replied. "Don't worry Bryson, you're safe with me and tomorrow we'll get some answers."

"No ones safe," Bryson mumbled as he gingerly slipped off his shirt. Dean let the comment go not knowing what else to say. He headed out the door but not before taking note of the hand shaped bruise over a large portion of the little Sprites body. Sam _definitely_ had some explaining to do now. This time Dean was NOT going to let it go.

The next morning Dean woke up to a heavy feeling on his chest. He opened one eye and saw what was causing the sensation. Bryson lay curled up under the small cloth Dean had given him the night before as a blanket. The Sprite was looking considerably better now as he remained fast asleep, rising and falling with each of Dean's breaths.

The night before Dean had set up a pillow on the dresser for Bryson to sleep on but it appeared the small Sprite had moved sometime during the night. A smile crept across Dean's face as he watched the sleeping creature. Far be it from him to like the little dude sleeping on him but maybe, just maybe… it wasn't so bad.

"Oh... god... How much beer did I drink last night?" Dean laughed as Bryson sat up on his chest, rubbing his head and groaning. The Sprite's hair was messily in every which direction, much like Sam's always was when he woke up.

"You had half a bottle," Dean replied. Bryson seemed to finally comprehend just where it was he had taken up residence. With a blush of embarrassment Bryson hopped off Dean to the bed beside him.

"More then I've had in a while," he said clearing his throat. "But man did that feel good… thanks Dean. I'm glad not all humans are bad." All at once, the mood had gone completely somber again and Dean sighed.

"Sam's not bad, Bryson," he tried. "He's just having some problems right now."

"Yeah, turning into a monster will do that do you," Bryson spat. Dean was just about to ask what exactly the Sprite meant by that when suddenly he heard the cabin door open. It almost startled Dean when Bryson suddenly went rigid, let of a small pathetic poof of dust and dived for cover under the bed sheets. "Please," he squeaked. "Please don't let him find me!"

"Just stay here," Dean ordered. However he knew Bryson had no intention of leaving his hideout anytime soon. Before Dean left the room, he hesitated and looked at his gun on the bedside table, with a heavy heart, he picked it up and tucked it in his waist band.

In the main room Sam was just shrugging off his jacket and putting down his keys when Dean approached.

"Big party last night?" Dean asked. Sam looked up at him and the fatigue was evident.

"I slept with a woman I barely know," he replied. Dean raised an eyebrow, not really sure if that was a good or bad thing in Sam's eyes. The way it had been said just sounded so… confused.

"Okay," Dean replied. "Look Sam I…" Sam turned away from Dean and headed toward the large bay window of the cabin.

"I slept with a woman I barely know and she was married," he said. Dean winced.

"Ouch," he replied. "How did you find out?" Sam turned his head just slightly.

"Her husband came at me with a French knife early this morning," he answered. "Barely made it out of there with my clothes. Hitch hiked back out here."

"You did WHAT? Sam why didn't you just call me?" Dean asked. Once again Sam turned to face him and the tension in the air started to crackle with intensity.

"I don't know," he replied. "I didn't do anything wrong and hitchhiking didn't seem… like a bad idea." Dean nearly snapped straight down the middle. If anything Sam should have been creped out from hitchhiking after the whole Meg thing.

"You and I have a different idea of right and wrong then Sammy," Dean replied.

"No we don't," Sam said. "I… really don't understand why I'm okay with what I did last night and this morning." Now Dean's anger was starting to fade away while his concern was growing. Sam really did seem genuinely confused at what he had done.

"Sammy I need to ask you something," Dean sighed. Sam however shook his head.

"Let me get some sleep first," he replied. "I just need some sleep." Before Dean could stop him, Sam had crossed the floor and was into his bedroom. Dean braced himself for what he knew was coming. The night before, he hadn't bothered to re-stash the box, knowing Sam would eventually open it and find his prize missing.

"What did you do?" Never before had Sam's voice sounded so accusatory and angry. Nor had his face contorted with such anger as it was now.

Sam came out of the bedroom with the empty box in his hand and all the furies of hell on his face.

"Sam look…"

"WHERE IS HE?" Sam bellowed. Dean was shocked and very, very confused.

"Sam what the hell has gotten into you? Why the hell would you kidnap Bryson?" he shot back. Oddly Sam started laughing as he lowered his head. But it wasn't a gentle laugh, it was one that actually but fear into Dean as it rattled through his core.

"You shouldn't have let him out Dean," Sam hissed menacingly. "You have no idea what you've done."

"I'm protecting a friend and trying to protect my brother," Dean shot back. So many thoughts and emotions were running through the room and Dean's head. Everything came to a grinding halt however when Sam looked up again.

No defense in the world could have prepared Dean for that moment. He sucked in a deep breath and took a large step back from his little brother. Or at least… it had been his brother.

Red eyes with yellow were narrowed in on him and as Sam started to approach, his skin began to develop a golden tinge while his hair lost all colour.

"S, Sam?" Dean chocked. His heart was pounding in his chest as the being before him came closer and closer. It also seemed as though something was gluing Dean to the spot. And the closer Sam got the more Dean realized, it was nothing more then his own petrifaction that kept him there. No unseen force as he's originally expected. Dean now knew Bryson's fear and felt even worse for the little creature.

"I'm sorry Dean, I can't stop this," Sam said suddenly. Though his eyes still looked angry, his voice sounded genuinely apologetic. Dean had no words as his brother wrapped his hands around his throat and started squeezing. "I don't know what I'm doing Dean, shouldn't you be stopping me?" Sam asked.

Dean tried to nod but Sam's grip only strengthened. The red eyes held so much anger but the facial expression and voice sounded so lost and confused. He wasn't the only one, Dean had no idea what was going on and he'd die without so much as a clue.

"S, s.." just getting out the S was a struggle for Dean as he crumpled to his knees. Sam's strength had increased ten fold it seemed and no matter how much Dean wanted to, he couldn't fight back.

"Goodbye Dean," Sam whispered. Tears started dripping from his possessed demonic eyes even though they remained angry and focused. "And see you in hell!" he snarled. Dean panicked and when a Winchester panicked, they usually pulled a 'Hail Mary,' anything that would allow them to survive.

Now was no different, Dean reacted, his hands searched to his waist band where his gun thankfully remained. With lightening quickness Dean brought the thing around in a swooping motion and connected it with the side of Sam's head. Sam released Dean but recovered quickly and soon the two of them were struggling for the weapon.

"Dean stop me!" Sam yelled.

"Christ Sammy I'm trying!" Dean exclaimed back.

Suddenly there was a loud bang of a weapon discharging. Both brothers froze and looked at each other in surprise. After a few seconds, Sam smiled he opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a thin stream of blood. He put a hand on Dean's shoulder then crumpled to the ground.

Dean looked at the gun in his hand and didn't know what to do nor how to feel.

"Sammy," he whispered. "I, I… I'm so sorry."

"Not yet you aren't, but you will be!" Dean never stood a chance, the gun was ripped from his hands as Sam, with speed not of a human body, was up on his feet again. Dean stared at him incredulously but it was only for a second as the gun once again was discharged.

The stare of disbelief remained but the life hadn't. Dean's body fell to the floor with a neat little hole right between his eyes. Sam looked down at the body then to the gun in his hand. He shrugged, tossed the gun and looked around the room.

"This is what happens Bryson," Sam called. "Show yourself or suffer the same fate." After hearing a small shuffling noise Sam moved toward Dean's bedroom and slowly opened the door.

He had barely cleared the threshold when he was suddenly assaulted with a wave of sparkling dust. Sam choked and gasped and soon felt himself growing weak. He fell to his knees and looked up, Bryson was staring down at him in fear, anger and loathing.

"That should knock you out for a while," Bryson hissed. Sam reached up for the creature but had no strength left. Instead as the calming sensation washed over him he fell asleep with one thought of his crushing reality…

… he had just murdered his big brother.

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TBC…

Dun dun duuuuuuuh! Mwa ha ha ha! Oh I am evil! RIP Dean, you poor soul you…

Kay, preview for next chap;

… _John Winchester had been hunting since his sweet Mary had died. He'd faced evil, he'd faced dangerous humans, he'd face non-believers and he'd faced times when he believed his death was eminent. But nothing, nothing prepared him for this._

"_No," John said. His mind was simply blocking out the reality of his situation as well as the word from the Sprite's mouth._

"_Yes," Bryson replied. "A last resort of course."_

"_No," John said again this time much firmer. He stood up and pulled the branding iron from the fire. Then slowly he pushed open the bedroom door to his youngest son's room._

_Sam's eyes grew wide as he laid eyes on the thing in his father's hand as he furiously started to struggle against his binds._

"_Dad, no! No!" he wailed. "Please, god, no!" _

"_This is for Dean, son," John replied. Sam's eyes filled with tears and he stopped struggling. John approached the bed and lifted his sons shirt, this would hurt them both._

Man… I'm starting to worry myself. What the hell is going on with the Winchesters? Well… read and find out! And review please! Thankyou! PS. special shout out to "Servant of SHEVAL" for her complete awesomenessnessness!


	3. Sam the Apocalypse?

Thanks to all my reviewers! You guys really do keep me going! This chapter finally gives you some answers about why Sam's gone all kinds of crazy. Also, John's my boy, so I can't leave him out in a lurch! He's there too and of course, Bryson, even though the little guy's suffering he's slowly coming back! I have no idea if Little Ridge Montana is a place, I made it up.

Hope you'll forgive me for this!

Enjoy!

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John Winchester was only thankful there hadn't been many state police on the highway as he booked it all the way to Little Ridge, Montana. It also helped that he knew the back roads of the country inside and out but still, every now and then the cops found him.

He'd managed to make it all the way only being pulled over once for speeding. He didn't get angry with the officer, he couldn't afford to and truth be told, bottoming out the truck probably wasn't the safest way to drive. He'd taken the ticket, driven the speed limit for maybe another half hour, then once again pressed on the gas.

The phone call he'd gotten from Missouri had, as Dean put it, 'spooked' him, it spooked him good. It had also confused the hell out of him but one thing was for sure, he had to get to his boys and soon.

When Missouri called John had been sitting in a motel room half doing research and half ready to pick up the phone and ream out his sons. He got the message of their 'vacation' not minutes after they left it and couldn't believe nor understand why they'd do such a thing. As far as he had been aware, up to that point, Sam was fighting and hunting better and more efficient then he had been in his life. According to Dean's updates the two of them were just purging the country side of all it's evil and having a good time doing it.

The first time John had gotten a message from Dean that said, 'Dad, Sammy's kicking ass, you'd be proud of him. Bagged a 'Geist and a Shtriga in one day almost single handedly! No injuries what so ever!' he had been elated. Sam was finally accepting what their family was fated to do. Since that message, only more and more positive ones came through. John actually started being impressed that his boys were moving faster then he was across country.

But now things were different and all those messages of Sam's cudos didn't seem like such a good thing. He saw Missouri's number on his phone that day and picked it up, curious to know what she wanted.

"John," she said very gravely. "The boys need you, Sam needs you." At first John wasn't sure what to think, the way the older woman's voice sounded, he was sure it was some sort of trick. But then Missouri had cleared her throat and said, "Boy so help me if you keep thinking I'm not me! We don't have time for this!" So John had dutifully shut up and listened.

"Okay Missouri, what's going on?" he asked.

"I spoke with the Summers earlier today, there's something wrong with the Sprite's. They've apparently been acting strange since you boys left but now they've started going into hiding. Fewer of them are hanging around the house if at all," Missouri explained. "But a day ago three of them came to the Summers house and asked where Bryson was."

"Bryson?" John had asked. "We left him with them when we left the forest."

"Not according to the Sprites, John," Missouri replied. "They say the tall one took him."

"Sam?"

"I don't know but…" When Missouri had trailed of John was immediately concerned. The old woman held nothing back, ever and to have her suddenly rendered silent was very unsettling.

"Missouri, what is it?" he pried. The woman had taken a deep breath and John braced himself.

"I can't read Sam anymore John," she replied. "It's like… there's some sort of… wall that's shutting me out. I have no idea what's going on but I've had this feeling for a while now and it's gotten much stronger recently. Now with the Sprite's… John I think Dean is in danger." Now the confusion had returned and John shook his head.

"Wait… Dean? You mean Sam don't you?" he asked.

"No sugar, I mean Dean," Missouri had replied. "I'm sensing all sorts of wrong from those two boys."

That's when John had started packing. It was at the first pit stop that he'd called Dean to see if the boys were alright. More importantly he wanted to make sure Sam was still as okay as he had been when they'd gone their separate ways.

Dean's phone call however only added to the panic in the fathers heart. He trusted Missouri but he trusted Dean even more when it came to matter's of how Sam was acting. Since they were young John had always seen a special connection between the boys. Dean would always be there to rescue Sam and Sam would always be reason for Dean to stay calm under pressure. John had always been a little jealous of the two but in later years when Sam had decided to be the rebel son, he was grateful for the boys relationship. Dean had almost become a translator between the two of them. He was the one man in the family who was fluent in both 'Sam-ese' and 'Dad-glish.'

So when Dean actually admitted to John that Sam was acting strange, he grew twice as concerned and only drove faster.

Now John skidded his truck to a halt on the gravel driveway in front of the cottage. The old woman at the house had been surprisingly welcoming to John after she found out who's father he was. She happily gave up the right cabin number and soon John was moving again.

The truck barely stopped before John ripped the keys out of the ignition and ran up the steps and knocked on the door.

"Boys it's your father, open up," John ordered. When there was no response he tried knocking again. "Come on Dean, Sam, open this door right now!" he exclaimed. Though his words lacked conviction, really he just wanted to know that the only thing he had left of Mary's, wasn't hurt or worse.

He was raising his hand to knock again when the door clicked and slowly started to swing open.

"It's about time! What…?" John had ducked in the door but stopped short at the sight before him. His body went numb all of a sudden and seemed to shut down as he looked at the destroyed room and then to the individual lying on the floor. "Son?" John squeaked.

"I'm sorry this happened." Startled John spun around to face the voice that spoke to him.

"Bryson?" he exclaimed. Bryson smiled sadly and nodded. The Sprite looked in much rougher condition then John had last seen him in but that didn't matter. What mattered was what the hell had happened to his son and who was responsible. "What happened?" John asked his mouth barely able to form the words.

Bryson flew over to the body and landed next to it, eyeing it warily.

"There was a fight and… Sam was… changed…" he struggled. Small tears dripped from his eyes before he once again took flight and landed on the table next to John. "I didn't know what to do so I… I just…" John shook his head cutting the Sprite off and then moving closer to his son on the floor.

"Why is he tied down? And what the hell is this dust all around him?" he asked.

"Because he shot me in the head." John spun around, once again nearly having a heart attack, to face Dean who was coming out of a bedroom holding his head.

"Dean!" Bryson squealed. "God I'm good!" John looked incredulously from the Sprite, who was pumping his tiny fists in victory, to his youngest son, tied up, dusted and placed in the middle of a demon trap and then to Dean.

"He shot you in the head?" John asked. Dean nodded and moved his hand away from his head, revealing and angry red mark right between his eyes. Instantly concerned John got to his oldest sons side and looked at it. "This is a direct hit, how…?"

"Bryson, dad," Dean replied. "Sam did shot me and I _was_ dead but Tinkerboy came through for us again. Don't know how he did it, but he did." John was horrified but elated at the same time. His son had been killed but by the grace of god, he'd been saved once again.

"We Sprite's can do amazing things when our lives depend on it," Bryson said. Clearly the little Sprite's strength was waning as he slowly sank down to his knees on the table. "Dean saved me from that box and from Sam, it meant my life that he survived so I… I gave it all I had. I'm a little tired now though."

Both Dean and John moved closer to the Sprite as he started to fall backward off the table. John was quick to react and caught Bryson before he fell to the floor. Clearly what ever the Sprite had done to save Dean had taken a lot out of the little guy, as had the sparkling dust that lay around Sam on the floor.

"Is he…?" Dean asked. John shook his head, the Sprite was pale but his tiny chest still rose and fell with life.

"He's still alive, I just think he needs some rest," he replied. Dean snorted.

"Him and me both." Once again John found himself looking to his son on the floor.

"Okay Dean, I'm going to need one hell of an explanation," he sighed.

"And you'll get one," Dean replied. Then he moved toward Sam on the floor, "Let's just tie him up and dust him in his bedroom. I don't want him to get free but that doesn't mean he can't have a bed." John nodded and after placing Bryson carefully on a couch with a blanket, he moved to help Dean.

A half hour later, John sat incredulously across from his eldest son and Bryson. The Sprite woke up moments ago and was now sipping on some water Dean had just brought him.

"So… he's possessed?" John asked.

"Don't think so," Dean replied. "I mean, it's not like any kind of possession I've ever seen before. He seemed perfectly aware of what he was doing the whole time just… confused as to why he was doing it. Kinda like he had a weird semi-split personality." John sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"The same eyes we saw that night in the forest you say?" he asked. Dean nodded,

"Accept this time his hair went white and his skin went gold," he added. Then he to let out a deep breath and shook his head, "Dad this is like nothing, _nothing_ we've _ever_ dealt with before. I mean, Sam's hunting has improved, you'd think if it was some kind of demon that he'd stop hunting or try and kill me but he hasn't. If anything he's been protecting me more then I have him. Aside from a few indiscretions that weren't so good, he's not showing any evil, demonic behavior."

"HE PUT ME IN A BOX FOR THREE MONTHS AND TORTURED ME!" Bryson suddenly exclaimed. A pathetic barely visible pathetic angry poof of dust came from his wings. Both Dean and John jumped slightly, surprised that one Sprite could get so loud.

"I know Brys, and I'm not saying that's okay," Dean replied. "I'm just saying… hell I don't know what I'm saying… this is nine kinds of crazy."

"It is," John agreed but then he looked at the Sprite, "But I'd like to know _why_ he needed you Bryson. What do you have to do with all this?" All of a sudden Bryson seemed once again quieted as he looked down into the thimble that was his cup. John raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean who sighed.

"Bryson's afraid to tell us what he knows because he's afraid of Sam trying to kill him," Dean explained.

"Sam wouldn't do that," John said.

"Just like he wouldn't shoot Dean in the head... OH WAIT? HE DID!" Bryson replied. John frowned but knew the Sprite had a point, one that was undeniably made clear by the red mark that still remained on his eldest sons forehead.

"Okay, fair enough, but Bryson you met Sam before this all started happening… sort of anyway. You know he's an okay person and that something is really wrong with him right now," John said.

"Exactly," Dean added. "If you know something that can help us get him back to normal then I'm sure he'll feel horrible for what he did to you."

"You don't get it, do you?" Bryson exclaimed. He tossed his little thimble and it hit the coffee table with a clank. Then the Sprite tried to stand but his still weakened condition caused him to stumble into Dean's awaiting hand.

"No we don't Bryson, that's why we need you to explain it to us," Dean said. He helped the Sprite sit back down and wrapped a nearby blanket around his tiny shoulders. John held back his smile at the sight of his son acting like a concerned parent toward the Sprite. And more so at the fact that Bryson now looked like a pissed off child. A child that was so wrapped up in a blanket only his head stuck out.

It was the same way Mary would get Sam and Dean to calm down when they were very small. The babies would be wailing like there was no tomorrow and Mary would scoop them up, wrap them tightly in a blanket so they couldn't move and hold them until they were quiet or asleep. Dean may not realize it but at that moment he reminded John so much of Mary it hurt.

But that was a conversation for another time. What mattered now was finding out what was going on with Sam.

"Bryson, Dean and I will protect you but we need to know how to do it properly," John asked. "What's gotten into Sam?" Bryson was quiet for a moment but then he looked up at John and held eye contact.

"Nothing's gotten into Sam, John," Bryson said. "It's what's getting _out_ that's the problem." John raised a curious wary eyebrow as he looked from Dean back to the Sprite. Dean bore a similar look of confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean asked. Bryson sighed and sunk lower into his blanket almost so his mouth was covered.

"Lunar Sprite's have an ancient text called the 'Bitle,'" he began.

"Bitle? Don't you mean bible?" Dean asked. Bryson shook his head furiously.

"No I don't," he replied. "The Bitle is similar in some ways to the bible but it's in regards to the supernatural on earth and it makes the bible look like a new release."

"That old huh?" Dean asked. Bryson nodded.

"How come I've never heard of it?" John asked. He was pretty sure that he had his hands on any and all texts and other things, regarding the supernatural. It was hard to believe something that sounded so important wouldn't be part of his repertoire.

"Do you really think we'd be dumb enough to let humans get a hold of something so precious to us? Good and evil supernatural, both sides protect it's stories with their lives," Bryson replied.

"So how many copies of it are there in the world?" Dean asked. Now Bryson was starting to look annoyed as he glared up at Dean.

"You really expect me to answer that human after what you're brother did to me?" he snapped. Then he sighed and shook his head, "The Bitle is in various forms so it can't be tracked down but Lunar Sprites are some of the few that actually have a parchment bound copy."

"So this Bitle, what does it have to do with Sam?" John asked. Bryson's face fell once again into one of fear and concern.

"In the Bitle, it tells of a power so great it was the essence of the Universe itself. It had control over all the beings that you would call supernatural and held them in balance. Before the earth and the stars were created this power was already formulating beasts and demons and sprites into existence," Bryson explained. John and Dean looked at each other then back to the Sprite.

"So it was a dark power?" Dean asked.

"Wrong again," Bryson sighed. "Man, you guys have the patience of a humming bird. Can I just finish please?" John pursed his lips but sat back in his chair while Dean folded his arms across his chest.

"Go ahead," John said calmly.

"This power wasn't classifiable. It was so powerful that it created so many different types of beings, human's included but eventually there was too many. The power began to get conflicted over which being meant more to it. Soon enough, good and evil were born of this power when it split in two, or as your bible says, god and the devil. The earth was created to look like paradise but evil let loose on it. The Bitle believed however that one day the powers of good and evil would reunite itself in one being, one entity and once again take control of the stars," Bryson explained. Then he looked between the two men, "I told you Sam wasn't human, I meant it. I saw a good power in him that's never been seen by the supernatural before."

"But how does that explain what's going on with him now?" Dean asked. "If he's so good why does he seem so confused?"

"Because he's not so good Dean," Bryson replied. "At least not anymore. That demon, the ancient one that attacked your family and wanted to possess Sam for his powers."

"The one Sam killed," John said.

"Sort of," Bryson mumbled. John felt his heart race at the prospect that the demon wasn't dead. Clearly this bothered Dean as well as the middle Winchester sat stiff as a board.

"That bastards dead Bryson, we'd know if he wasn't," Dean exclaimed.

"It is gone, don't worry," Bryson replied quickly. "But it was one of the original evils to come from the power's split. By dieing inside Sam, who had powers of untold good nature, it left a residual essence." John sighed as everything was finally starting to make sense… and scare him.

"Melding the good and evil back together," he said. Dean's head snapped toward his father then back to Bryson with an incredulous look on his face.

"Is that true?" he asked. "My brother is the most powerful being on earth right now?"

"No," Bryson said. "In the Universe known and unknown." Dean stood up and shook his head.

"This is insane," he said as he began to pace. "Sure Sam's gotten better at hunting and maybe he's done some not so great things but an all powerful being? I'm not buying it. He hasn't done any force field raising or people tossing or car lifting or surviving a car crash, how is that all powerful?"

"You shot him in the chest Dean, he was barely down thirty seconds before he was right back up again," Bryson dead-panned. Now it was John's turn to get to his feet and glare at his son.

"You shot your brother in the chest?" he exclaimed.

"It was an accident!" Dean exclaimed.

"It's also not his fault," Bryson piped up. "But now we answer why I'm here." John quieted and sat back down as did Dean, the two of them had gotten so worked up over Sam that they'd actually forgotten John's original question.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"My dust," Bryson explained. "Sprite dust as a calming compound in it. I don't know if you noticed but the only time Sam goes 'incredible hulk' on us is when he's upset or angry. Sam grabbed me because that night in the woods the power almost fully integrated itself inside him, it was the Sprite dust that kept the two separate inside him and helped him get a hold of the conflicting emotions and thoughts. The power still isn't completely integrated because Sam's being huffing my dust all this time. That said, he's needing more and more, more and more often and even with the dust in his system…"

"He's starting to lose the ability to tell right from wrong," Dean sighed. "So what happens when the powers fully come together?" John didn't like it in the least when the Sprite bit his bottom lip and looked away from them both.

"You loose Sam forever," Bryson said quietly. "And eventually, humanity loses the planet."

"You're essentially saying my son has the power to cause the apocalypse," John replied.

"I'm saying your son _is_ and _will be_ the apocalypse, John. His body will loose control of what's inside it and he'll transform into a monster that no one, no _thing_ can stop. He'll have an unquenchable appetite for anarchy because the boundaries of good and evil will be non-existent for him," Bryson said. John took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Jesus," he whispered. "What do we do? I mean… we have to be able to do something. Christ this is my son we're talking about!" It didn't go unnoticed that Dean had paled considerable taking in the information the small Sprite was giving them. John felt bad for Dean because he knew a revelation that Sam was going to die and take the world with him wasn't something the brother could comprehend. Dena was hurting alright, but that would have to wait until after they saved Sam.

"That's where that comes in," Bryson said. John followed the Sprite's finger to a metal rod that was sticking out of the fire. The end of the poker was already red hot and glowing. He turned back to the Sprite and frowned.

"That better not be what I think it is," he said.

"Too bad, it is," Bryson replied. "John I have no idea how to stop Sam from destroying the world. My dust is just temporary and I can't keep giving up the amount he needs, I've barely been surviving as is. That poker has a brand on it, it's a pentagram cross highbred symbol that will keep both powers separate and at bay much better then the occasional dust huff will."

"But that sounds like it's still temporary," John said. Bryson opened his mouth to reply but Dean folded his arms again.

"We are NOT _branding_ my little brother," he hissed. "I don't care what else we have to do but we are _not_ going anywhere near Sammy with that thing."

"Dean the alternative means my death," Bryson said sadly. "I know it's cruel to do that to Sam but… is my life really worth so little to you? After all that I've done?" Even John felt the emotion of guilt run off his first born. Dean was good at hiding his emotions but the innocent, sad look of a tiny blue Sprite seemed to be just the thing to break down the tough exterior.

With a sigh, Dean moved closer to Bryson and smiled weakly.

"I do owe you a lot," he replied. "And I don't want you to die but isn't there any other way?" Bryson shook his head and looked back to John.

"The brand will last longer, long enough for the others to find us and bring the text," he explained. "Your son is borderline omnipotent John, the brand will heal as though it had never been there with in days."

"And the other Sprites, they're coming?" John asked. Bryson looked bashfully at the floor.

"I don't have enough energy to call them," he said quietly. "But if one of you let the Summers know they'd be able to get the others here." John looked at Dean who stared back, clearly the choice was John's at this point as the lost look on Dean's face just hadn't gone away.

"Okay, I'll do it," he said. "Dean, will you call Missouri and ask her too get in touch with the Summers?"

"Not like I could sit around to watch this anyway," Dean replied. He pulled out his cell phone and headed out the door without another word. John shook his head in exasperation.

"Dean doesn't know what to think," Bryson suddenly said. "He's conflicted between hunting and banishing harmful evils and protecting Sam."

"It's always been that way with him," John said. "But it's never been this… extreme." He was about to stand up and reach for the poker when Bryson cleared his throat nervously.

"John uh… there's one more thing," he said. Warily John looked at the small Sprite and remained seated.

"What?" he asked.

"If there's nothing in the text that can help Sam… you have to be prepared for what comes next," Bryson said.

"That being?" John asked.

"Lunar Sprites are good beings but we're also self preserving. My people can't allow ourselves or our world to just be destroyed," Bryson said. Finally the Sprite slipped from his blanket and managed the short flight over to John's side. He looked up at the man, "No one in good conscience let those powers reunite fully a permanent solution has to come one way or another." John ran the words through in his head several times before looking back down at the Sprite and frowning.

"You mean…"

"If Sam isn't saved, he has to die," Bryson said. "And I'm sure he'd just as soon get killed mercifully by his own family then by a mob of pissed off Sprites." John's mind reeled, since when did Sprite's become an angry mob? Even though he knew what Bryson was saying made sense and it was in the best interest of mankind and supernatural alike, John just couldn't accept it.

He had been hunting since his sweet Mary had died. He'd faced evil, he'd faced dangerous humans, he'd face non-believers and he'd faced times when he believed his death was eminent. But nothing, nothing prepared him for this truth. The truth that his son would most likely not see this through to the end.

"No," John said. His mind was simply blocking out the reality of his situation.

"Yes," Bryson replied. Then tenderly added, "A last resort, of course."

"No," John said again this time much firmer. "I wont murder my own flesh and blood."

"Even if it means the rest of your kind will be lost in his place?" Bryson asked. "I know it's difficult but be realistic."

"I am," John replied. "It wont come to that, we'll get the Bitle and we'll save Sam."

"I hope so," Bryson replied. He looked away pensively, "I hope so." John watched the Sprite for a moment and wondered how horrible it had been for Bryson over the past few months. He also wondered if Sam actually realized what was going on and how it was effecting his brother.

John had never seen Dean so, dejected and sad, almost as though in loosing his brother, Dean was loosing himself as well. That and having shot one another within minutes of each blast couldn't have gone over well with Dean.

When Dean was eleven he had almost accidentally shot Sam while cleaning a gun. John had seen the possible mistake coming and had intervened before the gun even went off but the emotional damage had been done. It took four weeks before Dean would even touch a gun again and another month before he'd get with in twenty feet of his brother with a weapon unless absolutely necessary.

The idea that they had both shot each other with out hesitation no doubt was making Dean feel physically ill. But more so that Sam had shot him _again. _The long established trust between the boys was breaking apart, John could see it and was very worried.

Not worried enough to neglect the task at hand however, he stood up and pulled the branding iron from the fire. Then slowly he pushed open the bedroom door to his youngest Son's room. Sam was awake and as far as John could tell, looking completely normal. It was disturbing to see Sam's hands and feet tied to the bed as was it odd to have him covered in a fine sheen of dust. For a moment, John wondered just how close Bryson was to death if he'd given off this much of the powder.

Sam's eyes grew wide as he laid eyes on the thing in his father's hand as he furiously started to struggle weakly against his binds. Clearly he had no strength either, thanks to the dust.

"Dad, no! No!" he wailed. "Please, god, no!"

"This is for Dean, son," John replied. Sam's eyes filled with tears and he stopped struggling.

"I killed him," Sam sniffed. "I… killed him?" John was momentarily stunned by his sons confusion about the matter.

"He's not dead Sam, Bryson saved him," John said. "But we need to do this so we can help you okay? Just don't fight me on this, I'm sorry." He approached the bed and lifted his sons shirt, this would hurt them both.

"Dad no, please… wait… WAIT!" John sucked in a deep breath and pressed the hot metal symbol to his son's tender flesh.

Dean closed his eyes and tried to block out the blood curdling scream that echoed through the thick log walls of the cabin. Even sitting on the hood of the Impala away from the front door, his brother's screams were clear as day.

"I'm sorry Sammy," he said quietly to himself. He'd just finished filling Missouri in and had gotten her word she'd talk to the Summers. Now he sat waiting for the screaming to end before he went back inside.

Truthfully, when he'd woken up that afternoon and heard his father's voice in the cabin he was elated. But then reality had come rushing back to him and for several moments he'd been to stunned to move. He had shot Sam and Sam, in turn, had shot him in the head. _In the head._ It wasn't a disabling shot, it was a kill shot and if Bryson hadn't been there… Well Dean only thanked all the powers that be that the Sprite had been there.

But what hurt worse was knowing Sam had been suffering a great deal in the past few months and hadn't trusted Dean or felt comfortable enough to ask him for help. After all the things they'd done together and fought against, Sam couldn't bring such a serious problem to his brother's attention. Which only made Dean wonder more if the two of them really still knew each other. They weren't toddlers, sharing the bathtub anymore. They weren't kids that walked with each other to and from school. They were grown men, men who had grown apart and apparently brother's who'd become estranged.

Dean sighed as the screaming finally stopped and placed his cell phone back in his pocket. You could spend almost your entire life with someone, they could change right before your very eyes and you'd never notice it until one day, something like this happens.

Sam wasn't little Sammy screaming bloody murder for the Nair in his shampoo or the permanent marker on his face the first time he got drunk. No, Sammy was now Sam, grown up, psychic, powerful being, college educated, bringer of the apocalypse, Sam Winchester.

And at that moment, something inside Dean died just a little.

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TBC

Sniff! Poor Dean! Well at least he's alive huh? Had you fooled for a few seconds at the beginning I hope! Snicker, snicker, snicker.

Anyway, here's your appetizer for the next chapter;

… _Dean was still feeling bad about the conversation they had earlier. He knew Sam was probably more scared then anyone else at the moment and powerless and angry or not, Dean had a responsibility to sooth his little brother's nerves. That in mind Dean got up from the table and nodded to his father._

"_I'm going to go talk to him," he said._

"_Be careful," John said barely looking up from the text in front of him. Dean nodded and headed toward his brother's room. He put his hand on the door and began to open it._

"_Sam can I come in?" he asked. When he received no answer he figured Sam was still upset at him and doing the silent treatment thing. Dean started to push the door open more. "Come on Sam, I just want to…" _

_He froze dead in his tracks, his heart stopped and his mind shut down. Rope debris lay everywhere and the window was wide open. But the worst thing was the small Sprite, struggling to breath on the bed, horrifically missing his left wing. It took several seconds for Dean to react but finally the adrenaline surged through him._

"_DAD!" he yelled._

Oh man, I'm horrible!… the beast has been set free… you knew it had to happen at some point! But was dear Bryson caught in the crossfire? Stay tuned! Read and review!


	4. Sam's Not The Only One

First off, once again, thanks to all my reviewers and tell your friends! Yay story!

Secondly, I think I've finally managed to balance this bad boy out. It's not a Sammy fic nor a Dean fic or hell even a John fic. It's a BRYSON FIC! Mwa ha ha! Just kidding!

Thirdly... man I am pumping out chapters so fast because you guys are supporting me so much!

I do think you all will enjoy the little twist toward the end of this chap and I hope you'll let me know if you do. Anyway, back to poor longer suffering Winchesters…

Enjoy!

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The first thing Dean did when he reentered the house was get himself a beer. Something his father openly frowned upon. They sat in silence with the only sound being the crackling fire place and the occasional page turn from John and his journal. Bryson had remained on the couch with a glass of water next to him and would wake up for only brief spurts to drink, before going back to sleep. The little Sprite had done enough for the Winchesters and Dean was more then happy to let him have his rest.

Finally after about an hour and a half had gone by and the sun had long since gone down, when Dean stood up to get his third beer. John's hand shot out and stopped him before he was even fully standing.

"What have you boys being doing to my old journal?" he asked not looking up from the book. "Dog-eared and dirty, pages damaged… treat it almost as bad as you treat that car I gave you." For a moment Dean wasn't sure what to say, his father's comments had been so completely out of the blue and random that he was sure he'd heard wrong.

But when his father finally looked up from the book as if he'd been expecting an answer to his rhetorical question, Dean frowned.

"Hunting ain't exactly the teddy bears picnic dad," he replied. "Between killing the big bads of the world and I dunno… staying alive, it's kind of hard to keep things in mint condition." John raised an eyebrow and sat back placing the journal on the table.

"You really want to take that tone with me right now?" he asked. Dean raised an eyebrow and suddenly lost interest in getting himself another drink. He sat down across his father making sure the man knew they were now in a face off.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means I'm disappointed in you," John replied. In any other situation, hearing those words from his father would have upset Dean and they still did, to a degree but right now it angered him more then anything.

"That's rich coming from you old man," Dean snapped. John's eyes had never gone as huge as they did at that moment.

"_Excuse_ me?" he hissed.

"I didn't stutter," Dean replied immediately. "Sam and I busted our ass for almost a year trying to find your sorry behind. I can't even remember why I bothered looking for you! You weren't a father after mom died and it's too damn late to be one now. So _dad_ maybe _I _should say _I'm _disappointed in _you_." They held their gaze for several more seconds. Dean knew his father would never back down and he had to rise to the challenge of not folding either. Especially when he didn't feel he'd done anything wrong or said anything wrong. All he'd tried to do recently was be a good big brother and all that got him was a bullet to the brain.

"This has nothing to do with us or your personal feelings right now Dean," John said. Dean snorted and sat back. "It doesn't," John said again, "You're right I haven't been that great of a father but we can deal with that later. Sam's suffering and you've been sitting out here like that means nothing to you."

"He's all omnipotent, he can take care of himself," Dean scoffed.

"Do you really believe that?" John asked. "Or are you just upset that there's nothing you can do right now to help him?" Dean opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. His father had a point. Most of the time Dean could shoot something or bury it or burn it or recite some Latin and Sam would be fine but now, there was nothing he could do but watch his brother deteriorate. It didn't make sense that the youngest of the two was burdened with powers Dean could only dream of.

For a few days he'd gotten a taste of Sam's abilities and he'd felt the strain. But more so, he'd felt the awesome power and he'd liked it. So yes, Dean was sad he could do nothing for Sam but he was also jealous that he didn't have powers too. Maybe if he did, things would be different at the moment and his little brother wouldn't be degrading into a human time bomb.

"Go see him," John said. Dean looked up at his father, not realizing he'd looked away at any point. Instead of saying anything, he just got up with a sigh and turned toward his brother's room.

"Dean." The Winchester stopped short when he head Bryson's call. He turned as the little Sprite struggled to pull himself up on the back of the couch.

"What's up small fry?" he asked. Bryson scowled a tired scowl.

"Don't make me hurt you," he replied. Dean laughed but walked over to the couch and offered his hand to the Sprite. Bryson climbed on and sat down with a breath.

"The Warden back there said I have to go see Sam, you sure you want to come?" he asked.

"You don't want to see him?" Bryson asked curiously. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure what I want," he replied. "But I'm going anyway."

"I'm going too," he said. "With the brand he doesn't need my dust right now. I guess I just… I dunno, feel kinda shitty that he's suffering. Weird though right? I mean, after what he did to me I can't believe I feel this way." Dean started towards Sam's room door.

"You and me both," he replied. It was a strange sensation to care about someone who'd tried to kill you and almost succeeded but it was only because Dean knew deep down, plan old Sam was still in there. Sure his body was being used as a breeding ground for the Apocalypse and he didn't know right from wrong but hey… he was still family. It was the lying that had hurt the most. The fact that Sam didn't trust Dean anymore nor seemed to need him around.

It was pathetic, Dean knew it and he'd never admit to his father or Sam but in reality, he needed the two of them probably a lot more then they needed him. That was made painfully clear when one ran off to college and the other just plain ran. And where had Dean been during all this? Still hunting, still protecting, still waiting for his chance to be in the spotlight, a spotlight that he knew was never coming.

Sam's door opened with a slight creak so when Dean stepped through the threshold, the youngest of the family was already looking in his direction. Sam was pale and the brand on his stomach looked quite painful but it appeared as though it had worked. Sam's eyes were more focused and less crazed then they had been in a while.

"Hey," Dean said. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Sam, setting Bryson down on the bedspread.

"Hey," Sam replied. His voice was hoarse and it was rather awkward considering he was tied down to the bed. Dean gave his brother the once over then focused on the wound for a bit.

"You look like shit," he said. Sam closed his eyes with a sad smile before opening them again.

"Getting branded like some sort of chattel to calm the demons inside you tends to do that to a man," Sam replied. Then he took a deep breath and looked Dean in the eyes. "Look Dean I… when I thought I… I mean it wasn't me but… I'm sorry Dean. I wish I could be more sorry, my minds just so…"

"Gone?" Bryson supplied helpfully. Both Winchesters looked down at the small Sprite who had a stoic look on his face. Sam sighed and shook his head as best as he could.

"And you," Sam said. "I kept on trying to stop myself. I kept on thinking just one last time and then I'd set you free again but I…"

"Got greedy," Bryson said. "And addicted, I know this dust is like crack to anyone but us fairies. I just would have liked you to ask me rather then bind and gag me." Sam blushed with embarrassment and sighed.

"I know, I'm sorry Bryson I…" Sam suddenly stopped talking as his back arched and he sucked in a deep breath. Dean jumped to his feet and moved Bryson onto the bedside table, out of harms way.

"Sam? Sam what is it?" he demanded. However as soon as it began Sam flopped back to the bed again as if nothing had happened. It was then Dean noticed the brand on Sam's side and healed slightly.

Sam and Bryson noticed it as well.

"How long until the others get here with that text?" Sam asked. His voice was hushed as if raising it any higher would unleash a great power.

"If they fly fast they should be here by sun up," Bryson said. Sam nodded and swallowed nervously.

"Well uh… I'm going to go," Dean said. He stood to leave, he'd been feeling odd since he came in and now he knew why. Watching his brother morph into something he couldn't even begin to fathom was to much for him.

"Wait, Dean…" He turned around and looked at Sam questioningly, his little brother had a nervous face on him. "Why… uh… why don't you stay for a few seconds? We can, uh… talk about bending spoons or something." Though it was meant as a joke, Dean didn't like it nor take it as such.

"Not funny Sam," he said coldly. Sam's nervous face faltered slightly and for a moment it looked as though he was going to cry.

"Come on Dean, I'll even let you call me Sammy," he tried with a forced smile. Still Dean couldn't bring himself to stay in that room. Sam was pleading for him to help and there was nothing he could do. Worse, the longer he stayed the more he was angry at Sam for acting as though they were okay at the moment, that _he_ was okay.

"You shot me in the head," Dean said coldly. "And I shot you in the heart… Sammy is a chubby twelve year old that needs someone to look after him, _Sam._" Dean turned away before he had to bare witness to those large puppy dog eyes Sam was so good at perfecting. Instead he just marched to the door. "You coming Brys?" he asked.

"I'm goina stay here a while," Bryson replied. "And not be an asshole." Dean rolled his eyes and was out the door, closing it behind him. He had heard the beginnings of a few sobs from his brother and felt a tiny bit bad but refused to give in. He was tired of being the back up guy, the dependable one, maybe, just once, _he_ would be the one to walk away unapologetically.

When he headed into the kitchen to grab himself another beer his father was still there with his arms crossed and a look of complete disappointment. Dean twisted the top off his beer and took a sip before finally making eye contact with John and getting the full scope of the look. Disappointment, anger, frustration, annoyance, sadness it was all there… and he thought he had the right!

"When I was little bullies told me I was weird for not having a mom. When I was in middle school, they told me I was a freak because I had my little brother with me almost everywhere I went and had no friends. When I was in high school they said I was too dumb and would end up a dead beat like my non-existent father, who didn't show up to my graduation because he was to busy hunting. Sam left for college as if he was better then this life and better then me. All those times I brushed people off with out so much as a word. My mom loved me in the time I had with her and I held onto that. I had a duty to my little brother because I was his protector. I didn't need friends to gratify everything I did nor did I want them. I studied my ass off in high school and was given an honorable mention at grad, because of my high marks but I shrugged it off. The hunt was more important and my studies were done through correspondence. I have a degree that's still waiting for me at some university because I was too busy hunting to pick it up. So don't dad, don't give me that disappointed face like it's supposed to make be buckle! I'm a stronger _and_ better man then both you and Sam put together! I keep this family together and you both resent me for it so you can go to tell old man!" Dean wasn't sure where the rant had come from, lack of sleep, lack of proper food, worry, guilt, jealousy, it all seemed to compile itself and finally, with the threat of loosing yet another family member to the supernatural, he just didn't care anymore.

The words had flown from his mouth before his brain even registered what he was saying but the more they came out. The better he felt, so he spoke even more. The result was John sitting in his chair looking like he'd had his ass handed to him by a 90 lbs girl and Dean had grown three heads.

Dean still felt sad and bitter about everything but slightly gratified now. He took his beer and grabbed a few spares before heading to the front door and down to the lakes edge. Maybe now his father would give him a bit more respect.

John watched his son walk out the door and was speechless. Dean was a University grad? When the hell did that happen? It was sad that that had surprised him as much as it did but at the same time it wasn't impossible. When Dean was three, John and Mary had taken him to get tested. John had been convinced it was a waist of time as neither of them were geniuses so why would their son be? Turned out he was wrong, while Dean wasn't the smartest the doctor's doing the testing had ever seen, he was still up in the top ten. John had spent the rest of that week announcing to his friends at the garage that his son was a baby Einstein.

But after Mary's death, education became less and less important to him. It got to a point on occasion where John would actually be annoyed when either of his sons had to finish a paper before going hunting with him or training. Looking back on those times now, it was a shameful way for a father to act. Still he'd always, only ever wanted to keep his boys safe and alert. Apparently Dean hadn't just been the brawn but he'd also been the brain as well. His son had been so good at doing both equally as well that John never had any inkling Dean was neglecting the hunt. Which made John wonder, if he'd nurtured Sam a bit more, could he have done the same? A question that John knew he'd be pondering well into his senior years.

John had just been told off by his oldest son and the one who'd always been there for him in any task he asked to be completed. He didn't like it, in fact he hated thinking that his first born was getting up enough gal to talk in such a manner. But he suddenly realized he hadn't ever given Dean nearly as much credit as the boy was due. He simply accepted Dean's loyalty and pushed it to all it's limits. Dean was a gift to their screwed up, deranged family and asked nothing in return.

With a heavy sigh John looked at the front door where Dean had just departed from. If they pulled Sam through this okay, he and Dean would have a serious conversation about how important he actually was. Powers or not, Dean was a Winchester and Winchesters didn't abandon their own. At least… not anymore.

After drinking and staring at the stars for a few hours Dean had calmed down considerably. He made his way back up to the cabin, ready to face the music, knowing John would probably rip him a new one for being insubordinate. In a way, Dean felt he deserved it. They were all in a time of crisis right now and breaking down was unacceptable.

When he reached the cabin door Dean stopped to look at his watch. It was coming up on 4 in the morning and he was surprised he'd stayed awake the whole time. Perhaps pondering ones place in the world was just as good as a strong cup of coffee. He hoped that his father hadn't been the same way and was asleep at the moment so he could slip back in unnoticed. Knowing John though, Dean wouldn't be surprised if he was sitting next to the door with a shot gun and holy water, wide awake and ready to kill.

Sometimes Dean wondered if the man was part night owl. He and Sam would joke about that when they were kids. There father would come in early in the morning and his eyes would be large with sleeplessness and to much coffee. The two of them would start 'hooting', John would look at them like they were crazy and they'd laugh while the tired man went to bed for the morning.

Dean frowned, yet another childhood innocence they'd lost along the years.

"Hey moron, quit blocking the door, it's hard enough carrying these things over a few States!" Dean started and spun around when a small angry, out of breath voice piped up behind him. He spun around so quickly he lost his balance and had to take a step to compensate. Four Sprites jumped from there standing spots on the deck in every which direction to avoid being squished.

"Easy jumbo! You could have killed us!" another Sprite yelled. Dust poofing like a sparkling rain from it's wings. It had been a long time since Dean had seen a full blown angry Sprite and was amazed at how much dust came off the little man.

"Sorry," Dean apologized. The four Sprite's, each carrying particularly large satchels with parchment in them around their bodies, gave a few powerful flaps and were airborne. It was clear they were a bit tired and that the parchments were heavy for them but they got up to Dean's face.

None of them looked very amused. The one in front, similarly garbed like Bryson seemed to take the lead.

"Where's Bryson human? Don't make me beat it out of you," he snapped. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"You're six inches high, what could you possibly…" Before Dean finished his sentence two of the Sprite's disappeared behind him. With in seconds Dean was on the flat on his back staring at the creatures in shock. Two of them, _two of them_ had managed to throw him of balance and trip him.

"Not so tough now are you human?" the lead Sprite said. The three other Sprites laughed as they closed in on Dean. Two landed on his knees, one on his stomach and the leader of the pack, marched right up his chest and grabbed him by the collar, raising his head slightly.

The little Sprite narrowed his eyes and raised a tiny dagger that Dean would have easily mistaken for a bobby pin had the blue man not been wielding it.

"We may be tiny but we can still do some damage human," it spat. "Where's Bryson?"

"Dean?" The front door to the cottage opened and in the doorway John stood with a look of shock on his face. Dean smiled with embarrassment, ashamed that he'd been owned by four, six inch blue Sprites.

"Give up Bryson or we mess up his pretty face!" the leader holding Dean's shirt exclaimed. If Dean hadn't been absolutely convinced that the four Sprites would make good on their threat, he would have laughed. Listening to a pissed off Sprite was like listening to Mickey Mouse on steroids.

"Oryx?" From John's pocket Bryson stuck his head out and smiled. Thankfully the four Sprites that had attacked Dean, looked considerably more happy.

"Bryson are you okay? These humans didn't hurt you did they?" the leader, apparently named Oryx asked.

"No, not these two, they've been good to me," Bryson replied. "Now get off Dean, you're scaring him."

"They are not!" Dean said indignantly. The Sprites all shared a laugh but climbed off Dean and flew over to Bryson.

After being picked up off the ground by his father, the seven went back into the cabin. The four Sprites were introduced as Oryx, Lorne, Dewy and Kat, short for Katrina. No sooner had they handed off the texts did John snatch them up and start reading like a mad man.

Dean knew not to get in the way of his father's research and decided to tend to the Sprite's instead. The four looked weary from their long flight and Bryson, needless to say, was still trying to recover his lost strength. Eventually though, Bryson got some dust from his Sprite friends and decided to ease Sam's suffering a little. Dean didn't like the idea but Bryson insisted small amounts would make the brand last longer and give them more time.

Once Bryson was gone Dean looked at the four Sprites who were all snuggled up under the same blanket looking ready to sleep.

"I have to say, for little soldiers, you guys sure to act like kids," he smiled.

"Eat it pretty boy," Dewy replied.

"Yeah what? Did you expect us to be flitting around braiding our hair and singing nursery rhymes?" Lorne asked.

"We grew up in the same world you did human," Kat replied. "We just have more fun." Dean raised an eyebrow at the four sitting next to one another on the couch and had no doubt when the parties got loud, they were the ones making the most noise… With Bryson's help of coarse.

"Hey Dean?" Oryx piped up. Dean looked at him and nodded, grateful that at least one of them had stopped referring to him as _human_ as if it were a derogatory word.

"What?" he replied.

"Have you been feeling… different since that night in the woods?" he asked. Dean was about to laugh and say 'let me count the ways,' but then he saw the three stern warning glances Oryx got from his cohorts.

"Um, not really, why do you ask?" he replied. Oryx shrugged as if he'd already forgotten the question he just asked.

"Doesn't matter," the Sprite shrugged. "Now screw off, we need some sleep." The four Sprite's lay down, one by one and closed their eyes. Dean just rolled his eyes and shook his head before standing up and heading to the kitchen where his father was busy.

"Anything?" he asked. John didn't even look up but his eyes grew wide and he jerked his head slightly.

"I'll say," he replied. "The things that are in here… this is a dream come true for hunters like us."

"Dad," Dean said sternly. His father finally looked up curiously as Dean sat down across from him. "I mean anything that will help Sam." John's face flashed with a look of embarrassment for a second and shame before he looked back down again.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "I'm still looking." Dean chose not to respond to that knowing his father had probably spent the first few minutes of looking at the Bitle, to caught up in all he could learn rather then how to save his son.

That in mind, Dean decided it would be best to stay in the kitchen, keeping his father on track by being a constant reminder of what they needed to accomplish. He sat for almost a half hour before he started loosing focus on his father. His mind wandered to Sam and the way Dean had acted earlier. He was starting to feel bad about the conversation they had. He knew Sam was probably more scared then anyone else at the moment and powerless and angry or not, Dean had a responsibility to sooth his little brother's nerves. That in mind Dean came to a conclusion that he needed to see Sam again, so they could at least talk. He got up from the table and nodded to his father.

"I'm going to go talk to him," he said.

"Be careful," John said barely looking up from the text in front of him. Dean nodded and headed toward his brother's room. He gave the four sleeping Sprites on the sofa a silly smile, wondering where Bryson had gotten too, before putting his hand on the door, opening it just slighlty.

"Sam can I come in?" he asked. When he received no answer he figured Sam was still upset at him and doing the silent treatment thing probably because he was pissed off he'd been walked out on. Dean started to push the door open more. "Come on Sam, I just want to…"

He froze dead in his tracks, his heart stopped and his mind shut down. Rope debris lay everywhere and the window was wide open. But the worst thing was the small Sprite, struggling to breath on the bed, horrifically missing his left wing. It took several seconds for Dean to react but finally the adrenaline surged through him.

"DAD!" he yelled. With lightening like reflexes, he scooped the injured Sprite up in his hands. At first glance it had appeared as if the whole wing was gone but after picking Bryson up, it was revealed that only half the wing was missing. But it was enough, the Sprite was obviously going into shock. "DAD!" Dean wailed again.

He burst from Sam's room and nearly ran right into his father who'd come bounding from the kitchen.

"What is it? What's wrong?" John demanded. "Is Sam alright?"

"He's gone!" Dean exclaimed. "And look…" He opened his hands enough for John to lay eyes on Bryson.

"Oh Christ," John breathed. He dashed over to the couch and grabbed the blanket pulling it off the other Sprites with a tug.

"Oooo someone's got a death wish," Lorne yawned. However the second they saw Bryson in Dean's hands they leapt from their spots on the couch.

"What happened?" Kat exclaimed.

"Does it matter? Help him!" Dean panicked. The Sprite's lifted Bryson from Dean's grip and carried him off into the bedroom, Dean had been using. It was at that moment Dean realized why he was so panicked, so afraid. Bryson was little, Bryson was fragile despite his tough exterior but most of all, Bryson had needed him. He's needed Dean to save him from that box and he had saved his life so Dean could protect still.

"Dean… Dean! Calm down!" A sudden stinging sensation to the cheek caused Dean to stare at his father in disbelief. He rubbed his cheek and realized, he'd just been slapped.

"Did you just hit me?" Dean asked.

"I had to son, you were hyperventilating and panicking, I couldn't get you to listed to me," John replied. "Now we need to find Sam."

"He's gone," Dean said still in a bit of shock.

"Yes I know that, but we need to get him back before something bad happens to him or worse… that brand wears off," John said. As Dean took several deep breaths he nodded and began to understand the situation.

"He can't go far on foot," Dean said. "He's still got some sense of right so he's probably heading deeper into the woods, away from civilization."

"Good start, okay we'll split off you go north west I'll go north east," John said. Though his father's words were calm and collected, it was as though Dean could feel his father's angst and fear.

"Dad," Dean said, finally getting his wits about him. The man looked at him, "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Fine Dean, we need to get looking," John said back abruptly. Dean nodded after giving an apprehensive glance toward his bedroom where the Sprites were, he followed his father to the door.

The second they stepped out into the cool new morning air, another wave of grief hit Dean so hard that he nearly fell over. He was only saved by clutching the porch railing.

"Dean what's wrong?" John asked. His father's voice was slightly distant as if the man was standing a few hundred meters away. But that wasn't right because his father was right next to him, wasn't he?

"_Dean I'm sorry." _The new voice had sounded so real but there was no one else around, it had almost sounded like…

"Sam?" Dean asked out loud.

"What? Where?" John asked. "Dean what's going on?" Dean opened his eyes and looked around the woods as if they'd suddenly opened up pointing directly to where Sam had gone.

"He's that way," Dean pointed. John looked at the woods then back to Dean.

"How can you be so sure?" he asked. Dean opened his mouth to reply but then realized he had no explanation, he just… knew.

"_Someone come find me."_ This time the voice that was accompanied by great sadness, was much clearer and the woods in front of Dean much more transparent, almost as if he could actually _see_ Sam way off in the distance.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, not realizing there was no way Sam could ever hear him that far away.

"Dean, god damn it will you tell me what's going on?" John snapped. Dean looked at him and shook his head, when he looked back to the woods, they were once again dense and thick. Sam was no where in sight. "Dean?" He turned to his father again.

"I… I don't know it was like… I could… just feel him," Dean replied. John raised an eyebrow but then looked of into the woods.

"That way?" he asked. Dean nodded, "Then let's get going."

The two of them broke into a sprint or as fast as the terrain would allow. The deeper they went into the woods the stronger and stronger Dean could feel his brother's turmoil. It was like a beacon to him and soon enough, he was taking the lead ahead of his father running through the woods.

"_Jesus, we raised a gazelle." _There was an odd humor in the voice that Dean had never heard from his father before.

Dean stopped so suddenly that his father thumped right into him and had to back peddle to avoid falling over.

"Dean what are you doing?" John demanded.

"What did you say?" Dean asked. John looked at him as if he'd gone insane.

"I said, what are you doing?" he asked. Dean shook his head.

"No, no before that, just now while we we're running." he replied. John's look of complete and utter trepidation grew considerably.

"I didn't say anything. Now stop fooling around and let's keep going," the older Winchester ordered. Dean shook his head and opened his mouth only to be violently assaulted by grief yet again. He stumbled into his father's arms and sucked in a deep breath. "Okay son, you're starting to worry me now. Are you sick or hurt?" John asked. All Dean could do was shake his head, he had to make the feeling stop.

With a sudden need to end the suffering, Dean practically leapt from his fathers arms and started running again. Soon enough he broke through some particularly thick underbrush to a small clearing in the forest. He skidded to a halt as he took in the sight of Sam, sitting on a log, weeping with a gun to his head.

"Sam!" Dean hollered. Sam jerked in surprise and looked up at him but didn't move the gun.

"Dean… I have to end this," he cried. "This power's going to destroy me and everyone else in this world. I can't let it get to that point. I wont be an incubator for a power the world can't control!" Dean began slowly inching his way toward his brother with his hands raised.

"Sam, we have the Bitle now, Dad's been studying it. There's still a chance to help you," Dean urged.

"He's right son," John said. The man had approached at a jog but stopped farther back. "You can't give up, not like this."

"But I don't see anything wrong with this!" Sam exclaimed. "It's a means to an end, isn't that what we're supposed to be accomplishing?" Dean winced as Sam's trigger finger nervously twitched just slightly. The sorrow and grief was tidal waving off Sam at this point and Dean was struggling to stay on his own two feet; he had to make this stop.

"No Sam… we went over this months ago, none of this is worth dieing over and if it is… we Winchesters go out together," he replied.

"Dean, not helping," John warned quietly. Dean ignored him and continued to approach Sam.

"Don't come any closer Dean," Sam sniffed. "The powers… there coming back to me now. I… I can stop you."

"But you're not going to," Dean said confidently. Sam looked toward both men and snapped his head to the right slightly. It was as though Dean felt a strong wind had blown into him but he held his ground. John on the other hand had been sent sailing into a nearby tree and was now pinned like a helpless lamb.

Dean looked at his father incredulous that he too wasn't against the tree. Then he looked back at Sam, who'd actually lowered the gun a tad in shock.

"How…" Dean cut him off by holding out his hand.

"I'm going to come over there and take that gun from you Sam," he said sternly. "You're going to let me and then we're going to talk about this."

"Talk?" Sam spat, suddenly angry. "Winchesters don't talk Dean, we mask and soldier on. Stop moving Dean, I mean it, I'll shoot us both."

"Done that already, didn't much care for it," Dean joked. Sam scowled at him then turned the gun toward him.

"No pixies to save you know Dean," he hissed.

"Because you made short work of Bryson didn't you Sam?" Dean shot back. With that one comment Dean felt an odd humming sensation vibrate through him. It was the hum of anger that a small innocent like Bryson, who was only trying to help, had been caught in the crossfire.

Sam suddenly wailed and clutched his head as if in agony.

"I killed him! I'm a murderer! I have to end this while I still can!" he exclaimed. The gun cocked, Sam turned it back on himself but Dean, with a few quick steps was next to his brother. Dean shot his hand out and grabbed Sam's wrist, the hum of grief and uncertainty radiating between them

"Sam," Dean said sternly. "Everything is going to be okay because you're going to give me the gun and let dad and I take care of you. Bryson's not dead, his friends are helping him." Sam's eyes grew large with an unknown emotion but seemed transfixed on Dean.

Somewhere in the background Dean heard his father hit the forest floor and stand up. But that wasn't what mattered now. What mattered was the look in Sam's eyes, the look that was so intense it felt as though they brother's were sharing their emotions. Dean understood Sam's confusion and fear and he knew, Sam now understood Dean's concern and fortitude.

"W, what… are you… doing to… me?" Sam whispered. Dean felt his eyes closing, he felt a tingle run through his body like nothing he'd ever felt before. _"Dean what's happening? What is this?" _There was no way Dean could answer his brother's question, there was just to much raw emotion being fed between them.

And suddenly, just like that, it was over. Dean opened his eyes and looked down to have Sam slump unconscious into his arms.

"Dean what did you do?" John asked running up beside them. Dean just looked at his father like he hadn't heard the words clearly.

"I'm not really sure," he replied unsteadily. Suddenly a white hot flash of blinding pain dug itself into Dean's brain. As he felt consciousness leaving him he was sure that in his arms, Sam and grunted and flinched in pain, almost simultaneously to his own body. "Sam…" Dean moaned.

"Boys!" John's voice was like the final word before darkness came over the movie screen and the credits rolled. Only this wasn't a movie and there was no end credits, only searing pain and darkness.

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TBC

Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! And only one of my reviewers caught on to what I might be planning! Snicker, snicker, snicker! So what do you think? What the heck is going on? Well… keep reading and find out! Oh… and review please! I love reviews! I update faster with more of them!

As always, preview for next chapter:

… "_Dad I… I think there's something I need to tell you," Dean said cautiously. His father sighed and looked up at him_

"_Can it wait Dean? Now's not really the time," he urged._

"_I don't think it can," Dean came back. John was about to argue with his son when he saw the look of total loss on the boys face._

"_Okay, what is it?" he asked warily. Dean let out a nervous laugh then shook his head._

"_I think I'm going nuts," he said. John raised an eyebrow._

"_How so?" Dean bit his bottom lip and looked quite nervous all of a sudden. He mumbled something in auditable. John sighed._

"_Care to repeat that?" he asked. Dean looked at him and shrugged,_

"_Look out Haley Joel, here I come?" he offered with a weak smile. John blinked then smacked his forehead._

"_Oh Christ," he grunted._

Hmm… interesting… What have I done? What HAVE I done? Well, guess you'll just have to stay tuned to find out! And if our favorite little Sprite will be okay! Thank for reading!


	5. Hey I'm cool with it

Sorry it's taken me so long to update and thanks to all the reviewers! I guess this story's become much more author's universe since JW bit the big one in the first episode… _or did he?_ Anyway, that season premiere was wicked cool and Dean was SO hot in those hospital scrubs… sigh…

Oh and "Dude, I full on Swayzied that mother..." Classic Dean line, I nearly died laughing. Loved the "Ghost" reference.

So last time we had Dean feeling a little funny… let's get to it shall we?

Enjoy!

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Dean shot up off the bed like it was on fire. He jumped up so quickly that he fell off the bed but quickly righted himself and dropped into a fighting stance. No one messed with Dean Winchester, _no one_. And if they did, they were going to bleed…

However as he slowly regained his wits, Dean realized he was alone in the room and that whatever feeling at provoked him into leaping from bed in a panic was gone. Suddenly feeling a bit silly, Dean straightened himself up and brushed himself off as if he hadn't just made a complete fool out himself.

'_Man if Sammy saw that he would have… Sam!'_ Dean's thoughts came slamming back to reality as that morning's events came slamming back to him. Somehow his father had brought him back to the cabin which made Dean wonder where everyone else was at the moment.

Just as Dean was starting toward the door a loud ringing suddenly assaulted his ears. He grabbed his head and hissed in pain but as soon as the ringing had started, it stopped and suddenly, Dean wasn't alone in the room anymore.

At least… not mentally anyway. Voices filled his head and the more he concentrated on stopping them, the more the individual voices became clear.

'…_Come on Bryson, be alright…'_

'… _Don't die, please don't die…'_

'… _Stupid humans always messing about where they don't belong. And they wonder why we never talk to them…'_

'… _I hope this was worth it…'_

'… _Mary what am I going to do? Help me…' _Dean stood for a moment, staring at the wall, listening to the voices, which he knew somehow, where thoughts of the others in the cabin.

'_So much for being normal,'_ Dean sighed. The idea that he was hearing thoughts didn't bother him as much as the feelings that were digging into his heart like a razor blade. They confused him and made him sad all at the same time. The Sprite's were distraught which worried Dean, Bryson was special to him and he's be sad if the little Sprite was lost. More so that the other Sprites would probably never talk to or help another human being again.

And then there was his father, John Winchester was tough as nails and twice as dangerous. He didn't ever, _ever_ let anyone in on his deepest emotions or thoughts, Mary being exactly that and now… now Dean could not only hear it, he could feel it too.

"Well shit," Dean sighed. He shook his head, quieting the voices and exited the room. John was sitting on the couch still reading the Bitle, when Dean approached.

"It's about time." Dean whipped his head toward the kitchen and was surprised and wary to find Sam walking about freely with three mugs of coffee. He handed one to Dean, walked passed him and handed the other to John who nodded his thanks but said nothing more.

Then Sam sat down on the couch across from John and picked up another piece of parchment to read. Dean finally got over his shock,

"Sam?" he exclaimed. Sam looked up.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Dean bellowed.

"Hey!" Suddenly Dean was accosted with a flurry of sparkling dust and flapping wings. Oryx got nose to nose to him and wasn't looking very happy. "Yell all you want outside human but inside… we've got a hurt friend and you aren't helping any. So shut up or get out am I clear?"

"Look Tiny-Hulk, I…" Dean looked at the Sprite and was about to flick the thing across the room when suddenly a tiny wave of sadness washed over him. Dean knew the Sprite was feeling upset and also knew he had every right to want quiet. "I'm sorry Oryx," Dean said softly. "Is Bryson alright? Is there anything I can do?" Oryx's tiny eyebrow went up, no doubt confused as to the rapid change in manner.

"We're taking care of it," Oryx replied. He turned to fly back to the others but stopped and turned back with a confused but grateful look on his face. "Thanks though," he added and was gone.

Dean sighed and collapsed down on one of the couches, when he looked up he came eye to eye with both his brother and father.

"What?" he asked.

"Dean… when have you _ever_ been that nice to anyone?" John asked. Dean scowled at his father and ignored the comment, not impressed that the one thing that pulled his father away from his studies, was a kind gesture from his eldest. Instead Dean turned a wary glance on his younger brother before turning back to his father.

"Why isn't he tied down?" Dean asked his father.

"He's not a risk right now," John replied. "And he's good at research, he can help." Dean didn't like the answer nor did he accept it.

"He was ready to blow his and our brains out dad," he replied. The sadness and grief was radiating off Sam like a nuclear explosion but instead of feeling sorry, it just made Dean angry. His brother didn't have the right to play the victim, not after the crap he'd pulled up until this point. Especially not after nearly ending the life of an innocent creature.

"Dean, what ever happened in the forest it's put up a barrier in Sam," John explained. "The Sprite's aren't sure how or why but it's strong enough to give us the time we need to find a permanent solution… and I think we're getting close now that Sam's helping." Dean shook his head.

"I don't care anymore," he replied. John's head, that had since gone back down toward his reading, snapped up again. Across from them, Sam looked incredibly hurt and radiated it doubly so.

"Dean," Sam said quietly.

"No," Dean said standing. He pointed a finger at Sam. "You tried to… hell, succeeded in killing me and were ready to do it again. You lied to me for months and you may just have killed Bryson. Don't expect me to just _accept _that you're alright, right now!" Dean was nearly knocked over by a flash of anger mixed in with Sam's sadness.

"I lied to you? I was protecting you, god damn it! And what about the lies you've fed me?" he yelled. Dean rolled his eyes but Sam continued on, "A degree Dean? All this time you're calling _ME_ college boy, when YOU got their first! I'm in just a shitty position as you are here Dean, don't point that finger at me!"

"Ooo, I lied to you about being educated, for christs sake Sam, YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!" Dean blurted out. Suddenly the mug in Sam's hand shattered spilling hot coffee all over him.

"Ah… shit," Sam hissed. He stood up and with a nasty glare at Dean, marched into the bathroom and slammed the door.

Dean collapsed back into his chair and took a deep breath, something had definitely changed. Emotions, voices and now this?

"Dean, being upset right now isn't going to get us a resolution," John said. "Now why don't you pick up some parchment and start reading? We can discuss this when the fate of the world _doesn't_ depend on it." Once again Dean scowled as his father tossed him a scroll. The snide comment and the getting ready to storm from the room where on the tip of his tongue when once again his head was assaulted by sadness as his father's thoughts came through.

'_Mary what am I doing? Did I really raise our kids to think the hunt is more important then all else? They're brother's for Christ sake… I just wish… god I wish you were here… I need you Mary, I'll always need you.' _Dean didn't really know what to do at that moment. He was standing up part way to leave but hadn't gotten all the way to his feet when the words came. His father's thoughts had sounded so sad and so lonely that it seemed wrong. Wrong that the great John Winchester was capable of such thoughts. Thoughts that made him so… vulnerable.

Even though John was looking down at the parchment, Dean could still feel the concern and the sadness… there was way to much of that in their family.

John Winchester loved his sons but sometimes, sometimes they were just too much for him alone. He wanted to give them everything they needed and or wanted but the reality of their situation had forced him to neglect them of that. The reality being one of his sons was a powerful psychic and the other son, as he'd found out hours ago, was also special.

John hadn't wanted to think about it when Dean was unconscious laying in the bedroom. He just couldn't believe that after 20 some odd years he'd never realized that not just one but _both_ his sons were gifted in the supernatural.

The moment John saw his boys connect in the forest, he knew something was up. He'd had the suspicion when Dean had miraculously tracked the direct path to his brother in the woods but when they touched… that's when things changed.

Dean had glowed and not in the 'I'm so proud of you little brother, I love you,' sense of the word. No, Dean had glowed like a glow stick only twice as bright. It had confused John and scared him all at the same time but he knew it was Dean reacting and not some after effect off Sam.

So after practically carrying both boys home, each twenty meters at a time, he whipped out his cell phone and called Missouri. As anticipated, the older black woman was anxiously waiting for his call.

'It was Dean, John,' she said almost immediately.

'How Missouri? How is this possible? Is it a result of the switch months ago?' he'd asked. John was more then a little wounded when the woman had laughed at him for a few seconds before calming down.

'No honey, not from the switch, although it helped,' she replied. 'Dean's always had it in him, he was just so busy taking care of Sam and looking out for you that he neglected his own abilities to the deepest reaches of his mind. After the switch, his mind must have been more receptive to the idea that his body too, had abilities of sorts.' For a long moment then, John had stared at his unconscious sons in wonderment. The marines sure as hell didn't prepare him for that.

'What kind of abilities are we talking Missouri? Psychic like Sam?' he'd asked.

'No… different,' Missouri paused, a pause that was much to long for John's liking. He knew the woman was reading them from across the phone line. She could be long range if she wanted too.

'Then how Missouri?' he sighed in frustration. 'My boy just lit up like the forth of July!'

'Calm down John,' the woman scolded. 'I know you're anxious but this isn't easy when you're so far away.'

'Sorry,' John huffed. 'I just don't understand how I missed something like this.'

'The same way you missed _both_ your sons graduations?' John's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

'You _knew_ about Dean's degree?' he spat. 'How?'

'He had to do his final exam sometime John. That hunt in New Orleans he begged you to go on alone?'

'Yeah?'

'He came here, to Kansas, for the exam and his graduation, looked mighty fine in his suit too.' Despite the sore spot for John he'd smiled a wistful smile.

'Kansas State U, huh?' he asked.

'Best place in the whole State,' Missouri replied. 'Now you want to know about your boy or not?' John snapped back to reality.

'Yes of course!'

'Better,' she replied. 'Dean is… lord above Dean's an empath. Ha! Not just an empath but a telepathic, telekinetic empath! Boy, you Winchesters go big or go home don't you?' At that moment John had been forced to hold onto a table so as not to fall over. One son was a powerful psychic/telekinetic and now the other was… what… empathic? 'You still there John?'

'Yeah,' John had squeaked out.

'Time to go be a father John,' Missouri had laughed sympathetically. 'Mary loved you to death but I'll never understand why that woman couldn't tell you about her history.'

John didn't remember how the rest of the conversation had gone after that but it soon ended. The first time John had gone to Missouri about what had happened to his wife, she told him everything. She told him everything and for several days it stung. Apparently the woman he married, wasn't barely that woman at all.

Mary had come from a lineage of psychics, witches, warlocks, telepaths, wizards, empath's and even a demon or two. All of which had been good for many years until the family split ways after Mary's grandparents had split up. He grandfathers on both sides had been the first in the family to be completely mortal and that was something the lineage just couldn't have. Mary's father had married a mortal woman but the powers were still passed down to the woman. Powers John had never seen but had always known his wife was special.

Apparently when he and Mary gave birth to two baby boys they united her lineage with John's. John's lineage coming down the exact opposite end of the scale being famous hunters of all things "dark and spooky." John knew one day his boys would be something more then what they were and when Sam started with the visions, he'd just figured the supernatural had skipped over Dean and left him all human…

…needless to say, he'd been wrong.

The information had made John's head spin but in the end, he still had two sons to look after. Even though his wife had kept something so huge from him, he understood why she had done it and loved her all the same. And in a way, it was a relief to know the truth. Now he just had to deal with it and he prayed to god, Dean would just keep on suppressing what he had until Sam was out of the woods. There was no way John could deal with both at the moment.

"Dad I… I think there's something I need to tell you," Dean said cautiously. His father sighed and looked up at him

"Can it wait Dean? Now's not really the time," he urged. Silently begging his son not to carry on, knowing exactly where their conversation would go.

"I don't think it can," Dean came back. John was about to argue with his son when he saw the look of total loss on the boys face. Dean was hurting and once again, John was shutting him down. He sighed,

"Okay, what is it?" he asked warily. Dean let out a nervous laugh then shook his head.

"I think I'm going nuts," he said. John raised an eyebrow.

"How so?" Dean bit his bottom lip and looked quite nervous all of a sudden. He mumbled something in auditable. John sighed.

"Care to repeat that?" he asked. Dean looked at him and shrugged,

"Look out Haley Joel, here I come?" he offered with a weak smile. John blinked then smacked his forehead.

"Oh Christ," he grunted.

"Oh Christ, that's it?" Dean blurted out. "Dad I'm loosing my mind and all you have to say is 'oh Christ'? I'm sorry if this is interrupting your hunt!" John looked up and moved the Bitle aside quickly.

"That's not what I meant," he said instantly. "It's just that…" John sighed knowing his son had just as much right as he did to the truth and then some.

"What dad? It's just that, what?" Dean growled.

"You're special son," John replied as gently as possible. Then he looked up at his son, "I talked to Missouri while you and Sam were unconscious… you're like him Dean." Dean's face at that moment reminded John of an owl, eyes wide open with a vacant gaze, mouth closed in a hard line.

For several moments the two of them just looked at one another. John was afraid of how Dean would react to the notion that he wasn't just human but had no idea of telling what the young man was thinking at the moment.

"Special… how?" Dean asked suddenly. John raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you don't know?" he asked. Dean bit his lip and looked away.

"Well so far I'm hearing thoughts, feeling emotions, using them to find people and I just smashed a mug… I'm wondering if there's anything else," he replied. John nearly dropped dead on the spot. It would be a scene exactly like a Japanese anime when the character is so shocked, the fall over backward with one leg and one hand in the air, twitching slightly. But this was no cartoon…

"You… you're _okay_ with that?" John asked. Dean's wary eyes snapped toward him, concern etched in every line of his face.

"Are you?" he replied. John stood up almost in a defensive position.

"Of course I am Dean," he replied. "I'm just surprised you're handling it so… well." Dean shrugged and picked up his Bitle parchment and started reading.

"Yeah well… I think it's kinda cool," he replied. "I always wanted superpowers," he added with a smirk. John flopped back down in his seat and shook his head with a sigh.

"I wish Sammy could see it like that," he said.

"Well I ain't Sam," Dean replied a bit to harshly. But then the man smiled not looking up from his reading, "He's a psychic, I'm an empath," he replied coolly.

"Dean…"

"YOU'RE A WHAT?" John knew it would happen, part of him had known Sam had slipped the door open just slightly to listen a few seconds ago and that part of him was glad. The other part of him however, winced, the boys relationship was rocky enough between the two of them and he didn't want to see fuel on the fire.

Dean looked up at Sam and smiled a smug smile then went back to reading.

"Empath," he repeated as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Little telepathic and telekinetic too." Sam's mouth was agape with astonishment as he rounded the couch and stared at his brother.

"Is there anything else you haven't told me? Like, I dunno… WHERE YOU BURIED JIMMY HOFFA?" Sam yelled. Before Dean could get out a snide remark his face morphed into one of amazement and he jumped to his feet.

"This is it!" he exclaimed. John was instantly on his feet and rushed to Dean's side. Argument or no, Sam got to Dean's other side and looked down. The Bitle was in latin of coarse, so although there wasn't much to the parchments, it took quite a while for them to translate.

"What?" John asked. Dean pointed and translated as he read aloud.

"Uh… the powers that are never to be reunited can be kept at bay by… yadda yadda…" Trailing off as he read was something Dean had done since he was little and he knew it drove John insane. That and the parchment was on an odd angle so translating it for himself was impossible.

"Dean," John warned sternly. Dean nodded his head rapidly.

"Yeah yeah I was just getting to the important stuff," he replied. "Says here we need to perform a satanic ritual and then an exorcism. They have to be done one right after the other and must be overseen by a priest of both faiths…"

"Where are we going to get a satanic observer and a priest on such short notice?" John grunted. He looked over toward his new and old journal on the coffee table and wondered if there were any numbers he could phone. The more he thought however, the less he had faith in a quick return call. He frowned, they couldn't rely on the barrier in Sam being up for very long, even if Dean was holding it steady. The way their relationship was fluctuating at the moment, one brash comment could bring it crashing down.

It seemed crazy that after all the lives they saved and all the houses they cleared of poltergeists, it now appeared as though they didn't have a friend in the world.

Suddenly it hit John and hit him hard and he smirked. Dean and Sam looked at him as if he'd gone crazy.

"_What_ is funny about this?" Sam asked. John shook his head and looked at Dean.

"Montana, we're right next to Idaho, Dean, hell practically on the stateline," he replied. Both his sons still looked at him oddly so he sighed, "That possessed car in the little town of Haring? Remember what happened when we ran into those Satan worshipers?" For a moment Dean looked like a deer in headlights but then slowly his faced morphed into annoyance and he groaned.

"No," Dean said, "Absolutely not."

John couldn't help but smile as he remembered the hunt as if it were yesterday. They were tracking a cult that turned out to be a whole bunch of Satan worshipers lead by a very interesting fellow that had quite a thing for the Impala. In fact, the only reason they had found the cult's place of worship was because the man had stolen the car right from under Dean's nose.

John and Dean had watched the Satanist drive off laughing and spent another day trying to find the car. What they found, was a twin, the Satanist car thief, had a twin and wonders that be… the twin was a priest.

"Dean they'll do it," John said. "Tucker because he's a holy man and Jonas because… well because he's probably still laughing."

"I hate you right now," Dean said. But then he sighed and shook his head, "You're calling them." John nodded and pulled out his cell phone. Before he headed to the door however he looked between his boys.

"Work this out," he ordered. Neither of his sons looked amused.

Dean scrunched his face up in discontent. Tucker Agis was the one man in this world that had truly, undeniably gotten under Dean's skin. He'd stolen the Impala and then Dean had been forced to plead with him for information about the history of a certain car.

The actual possession Dean couldn't remember but it was being forced to work with Tucker that had nearly driven him to kill the man. The only thing that had stopped him, was his father and Tucker Agis, twin brother, Jonas Agis. Never before had their been to polar opposites between siblings. Jonas was kind, helpful and asked nothing in return. Tucker truly was the antichrist and Dean had no wish to see the man again.

Alas, it wasn't up to him.

"Dean?" Dean sighed and lowered his head, another problem he had to deal with.

"What Sam?" he replied. He looked up and his brother was making his classic puppy dog face.

"Dean I'm sorry," Sam said. "About everything. If this… if we can't find a solution to this I just… I want you to know how regretful I am that I didn't say anything."

"You should be," Dean replied and went to sit back down on a couch.

"Dean come on," Sam tried again. "I'm trying here." Dean sighed, he was angry but the revelation of being like Sam was starting to sink in. He could understand, if not literally feel the fear and uncertainty from Sam and knew this was no time to make enemies.

"I know," Dean replied. He looked up at Sam and took in his brother's haggard appearance, the past few days had clearly done a number on him. "How are you feeling?" he asked. Sam's face relaxed slightly and he sat down across from Dean.

"Tired," he replied. "Scared, lost, angry… Dean, what if this ritual doesn't work? What if… What if I turn into that… thing?"

"You wont Sam," Dean replied sternly. "Dad and I wont let it happen. Besides, you've got me as a kick as force field generator." As if to accent the point, Dean felt a tingle run through him and direct itself toward Sam. Sam in turn sucked in a deep breath and leaned back slightly.

"Whoa," he breathed. "Dean… you can't keep this up forever." And Dean knew it was true, he knew with each passing second that he helped his brother keep the two forces separate that more energy was drawn from him. However he wasn't about to just give up and call it a day. No way, he'd hold out for as long as he could, no matter what the cost.

"Don't worry about it Sam," he replied.

"You're never going to call me Sammy again, are you?" his brother asked suddenly. Dean looked up from the spot he'd chosen on the floor directly into his brother's eyes. It seemed funny after all the years of fighting over the nickname the tables had turned. Sam was an adult now and shouldn't be treated like a child but it was clear by the look on the younger man's face that he was getting nostalgic for the nickname. That or the argument that went with it.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, anything that would satisfy his brother and himself but thankfully was cut short. Oryx came flittering out of the bedroom followed by Dewy and Kat. The three Sprites landed close to Dean while keeping a cautious eye on Sam.

"Lorne's with him now," Dewy said.

"But Bryson should be okay," Oryx added. "Though he wont be doing any back flips anytime soon." Dean felt so relieved he actually laughed and nodded his head.

"Thank god for that," he smiled. "Shall we celebrate?" Before anyone could say anymore Dean levitated some beers in from the kitchen. The Sprites next to him went wide eyed but then Oryx shook his head.

"Took you freaking long enough," he replied. "We thought we were going to have to spell it out for you." Dean tossed a beer to Sam who was looking slightly bothered by the show.

"So you guys knew all along huh?" Dean asked.

"We're Sprites, Winchester," Dewy replied. "We know just about everything."

"Including the battle waging inside him," Kat replied slightly harshly as she pointed to Sam. Dean and Sam frowned at the same time but undoubtedly for different reasons. However Dean had no wish to remind them all of the troubles they were facing.

"Mechanical engineering," Dean said aloud. It was the same moment his father had reentered the main room.

"What?" Sam asked curiously.

"My degree, it's in mechanical engineering," Dean replied. "How in the hell else did you think I can rig up half the shit I do? The weapons we've got, do you really think we got them all working condition?" Both Sam and John looked at Dean incredulously for several quiet moments. Then Sam shook his head as a small grin danced across his face.

"You're a nerd," he snickered.

"Eat it college boy," Dean sneered. Then he winced as he realized he couldn't really make fun of his brother in such a manner anymore. Things were definitely changing between them. Instead Dean shook his head and looked up at his father who still looked a tad unsettled.

"Did you get a hold of the Agis's?" he asked. John nodded.

"They're on their way," he replied.

"Just like that? Both of them?" Dean asked. John came forward and sat down giving the beers a wary glance before looking back to his son.

"Tucker was more then glad to help and Jonas… well he told me to give you a message," the older Winchester said. With a heavy sigh Dean lowered his head into his hands and shook it.

"What did he say?" he asked. An odd noise that Dean knew was his father's chuckle rumbled out from the man.

"Lock your doors," John answered. Dean sat up and took a sip of beer.

"God damn it," he sighed. The three Sprites next to him started to giggle slightly as they tipped their beer and took turns sipping out of it. Dean sighed, at least they were happy and Bryson would be okay. Maybe, they'd all get through this in one piece.

Just then Dean's cell phone rang, he flipped it open with out checking to see who was calling.

"Hello?"

"Oh pretty, we're goina have some fun you and I!" Dean brought the phone away from his ear as Jonas Agis cackled away, then hung up. So much for making it through in one piece.

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Like I said, school and what not, I hate being a slow updater but sometimes that's the way life goes. I'll try and get this story done soon enough.

Has anyone noticed how the casting director of SN, loves blondes? Mary, Jessica? The new chick from the mom daughter combo? DEATH TO THE MOTHER DAUGHTER COMBO! Because you so know girlie and Dean are going to hook up… ew… I'd rather they bring back Cassie...

Here's the preview for next chapter:

… "_You ready to do this?" _

"_No but that doesn't matter does it?"_

"_Not really," Tucker replied. "On the count of three, let go. 1, 2... 3!" Dean concentrated hard and soon felt the barrier start to come down and eventually disappear. The sight before him was awesome as Sam twisted violently in his chair and the transformation begun. His hair lost all it's colour and his skin paled, then his eyes snapped open, the red and yellow had never before looked so vicious._

"_You humans," Sam hissed. "Pathetic. Did you actually think this ritual would stop me?"_

"_Actually," Dean sighed. "Yes."…_

That's it! Please read and review! Thanks lots! Cheers!


	6. Not a sidekick, a hero and a martyr?

Ooooh… don't know if any of you caught it, but at the end of the last chapter, I made a boo boo. I switched the names of the priest and satanic observer. The twins remember? Anyway, Jonas is the priest, Tucker is the Satanist… Sorry if I confused y'all.

Thanks for the reviews guys. I love and appreciate them as always. Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

Also, I apologize ahead of time if any of you are Satanists or know Satanists and feel I have misrepresented them in someway. I merely created a character that suited the story's plot line.

Enjoy!

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It was early the next morning when Dean decided he wouldn't bother trying to sleep anymore. Though the emotions of all those around him had dulled slightly they were still sharper then they had ever been before and kept him wide awake. Climbing out of bed Dean tiptoed into the living room where his father was fast a sleep. Dean had to smile at the eldest Winchester as even asleep he was top of his game.

John had a fourty five tucked in his pants and a shot gun resting against his leg… and the Bitle was splayed out in front of him. The man was as hardcore as the come, sometimes that made Dean nervous, knowing how destructive a man with a revenge mission could be but most of the time, Dean always felt safer with his dad around. It was the fact that John protected what was his with fierce determination. In other words, nothing would happen to his sons while he was around. Which was much the same way Dean felt about Sam and his father.

It was a bit of twisted logic seeing how if everyone was protecting everyone, no one was actually getting anything accomplished but in the end, Winchesters came first in Dean's eyes. No matter what demon, spirit or apocalyptic coming, was at hand.

Dean's smile grew as his tip toed silently to the other room. John's hand subconsciously slid down to the shot gun and brought the thing across his lap, but the man didn't wake up. _'Always on, even when he's asleep,'_ Dean thought to himself.

Sam was splayed out on his bed sleeping peacefully as if nothing were wrong with him. The truth was, the barrier Dean had erected inside his little brother between the two powers was getting weaker and weaker by the second. It was still strong enough to last at least a few more days but Dean could feel his energy slowly being drawn into keeping his baby brother's powers at bay.

Quietly closing the door to his brother's room Dean headed toward the balcony of the cabin where the Sprite's had brought Bryson the day before. They said it would help if they exposed him to the natural elements from whence they came. It had been good to see Bryson come out of the room on his own two feet but sad to see that he walked all the way to the balcony door. Both wings, or what was left of both wings, tucked tightly around his body.

Dean had even gone to pick the Sprite up but one vicious glare from Oryx and a shake of the head from Lorne and he backed off. Apparently Bryson wasn't one to have to rely on others for a long period of time.

Out on the balcony the four Sprite's had arranged themselves protectively around Bryson. Oryx and Kat on one side and Lorne and Dewy on the other. All five were wrapped up warmly in a blanket and slept soundly. Dean sighed, the little Sprite's had done more then there far share of help. The fact that they had even stayed after finding out the truth about Bryson's abduction was surprising in itself. But Dean knew that it was because they were truly good hearted little creatures that wanted nothing more then to live in peace. They wanted to see things through to the end and make sure Sam and the powers within Sam would no longer be a danger to them or anyone else.

Looking out over the lake Dean was humbled by the beauty and serenity of the world around him. It was probably because he knew what evils could lurk in the shadows but everything just seemed to be still. The crystal lake glittered like thousands of tiny diamonds as the demi-moon gleamed off it's surface and the calm night breeze gently touched the top of the proud standing, statue like pine trees. It was almost as though the evils of the world knew there was a serious battle being waged and were staying at bay for the time being. Even they were afraid of what might happen.

"Something on your mind?" Dean was dragged from his revelry by the small voice behind him. He turned around and found Bryson wide awake while the others slept on. Dean moved closer to the bundle of Sprite's as Bryson disentangled himself from his friends and climbed onto Dean's awaiting hand.

They moved silently to the other end of the deck so as not to wake the others while the spoke. Dean placed Bryson on the railing and leaned on it next to him.

"How you feeling?" he asked.

"Like half my wing was ripped off," Bryson replied honestly. Dean just shook his head and sighed. "I don't blame your brother Dean, what's happening is beyond his control."

"I know it is," Dean replied. "Believe me I know, that's why it bothers me so much. I mean, why Sam? Why not me?"

"You think because you're more excepting of these powers you'd be able to control the omnipotent power possessing Sam?" Bryson asked. Dean hadn't wanted to say it, he hadn't wanted to imply that his brother was any less equipped to deal with the supernatural then he was but… maybe in this case it was true.

"Brys, look what I can do, I don't even think about it," Dean replied. "It took me just under a half hour to get control enough of my powers so that I could use them to my advantage. Sam… Sam's known he's been like that for more then a year! And he _still_ doesn't have a handle on it."

"You're the first round Dean," Bryson replied. "Of course you've got a better handle on your abilities, there not nearly as complex as Sam's."

"Thanks," Dean said sarcastically. Bryson let loose a tired smile before shaking his head.

"Come on dude," he continued. "Deep down you know Sam's more powerful then you and deep down you know, you're the one that's supposed to keep those powers at bay."

"What?" Dean asked. Bryson sighed and shook his head.

"It really does have to be spelt out for you," he replied. Dean frowned, knowing Oryx had been running his mouth off about what had transpired earlier. "Don Quixote had Sancho Panza, Batman has Robin, Skywalker had Solo… What I'm trying to say is that…"

"That I'm Sam's sidekick?" Dean blurted out a bit louder then he'd meant too. He looked over at the other Sprites to see if he'd roused them but all four slept on. He turned back to Bryson with a frown. "Is that what you're telling me?"

"No you moron," Bryson shot back. "You're the hero Dean, because you know what needs to be done. You know how to do it and you know what's right and wrong. Sam is _your_ sidekick because he's struggling with what he is. He needs his role model, the hero to keep him in line, make sure he doesn't get himself into trouble and join the dark side." Dean shook his head.

"You guys really do watch to much tv," he sighed.

"Dean didn't you think it was interesting how Sam couldn't even budge you in the forest? The fact that you're the only thing stopping him from changing into a monster? Dean you were given abilities by whatever higher powers there are because they knew you'd have a little brother, a sidekick, that would need guidance and looking after. You're immune to anything Sam can throw at you," Bryson explained.

"I sound more like Yoda then Han," Dean smiled. "Maybe even Obi-Wan."

"Either way, Luke got a bitch slap if he got out of line," Bryson smiled back. "Besides, Obi-Wan got his head chopped off." Dean snickered quietly and shook his head. The idea that he played such an important role in Sam's life was oddly reassuring. For a while he'd believed Sam didn't need him anymore, Sam was all powerful and didn't need anyone. Now it turns out Sam needed him more then ever, if for nothing else but to keep him on the straight and narrow.

"I'm that important huh?" he said.

"You're prevent the end of the world, important dude," Bryson replied. Dean laughed again and then thought of something.

"Hey, what about Superman and Spiderman? They didn't have sidekicks," he asked. Bryson's eyes twinkled with a mischievous life, Dean had not seen in the young Sprite since the forest months ago.

"Superman could fly dude, you don't need a sidekick if you can freaking fly man," he replied. Then he looked out over the lake with a smirk, "And Spiderman was a douche, no _real_ superhero is modeled after a spider… I mean… what the hell is that? One giant newspaper and he's a goner."

This time, Dean couldn't control himself, he started laughing. And this time the other four Sprites did rise. It seemed, just as the sun was cresting over the trees that it was time to get up and get back into action.

This was made blatantly clear when an overwhelming emotion of greed and lust washed over Dean. Seconds before he heard a car pull up out front of the cabin. Dean frowned as he knew exactly what those emotions were directed toward and who was feeling them.

Dean sprinted back into the cabin passed his father who was now awake, no doubt by the sound of the car and out the front door. He skidded to a halt as the early morning sun rays caught the man running his hands along Dean's precious Impala like it was a Nubian queen.

"Get your filthy mitts of my car," Dean snarled. Tucker looked away from the car to Dean and his face grew into a toothy grin.

"Hey pretty, no need to get excited, I was just looking," he replied. "I had to spend the drive in a minivan with a holy man, a fine gentlemen such as yourself can understand my… need to touch something with such amazing quality." Dean felt his skin crawl but he moved closer to his car and the Satanist.

"Tuck," a stern warning drew Dean's attention slightly to his left where another man was dismounting the minivan. Jonas Agis, in his priest clothing smiled as he approached the two men. At the same time Dean could hear his father approaching from the front door.

"It's good to see you again Dean, John," Jonas smiled. John came up and hands were shaken all around… except Dean and Tucker of coarse.

"Thanks for coming on such short notice Jonas," John said.

"It's not a problem John," Jonas replied. Then he looked at his twin, "Well… for me anyway." Tucker raised a curious eyebrow as his hand came dangerously close to touching the Impala's hood yet again. Dean hissed drawing all of their attention and Tucker's smile.

"Pretty you need to work on that anger thing of yours," Tucker smiled. "I wasn't going to touch."

"If you're twin wasn't a priest, I swear Agis, you'd be eight feet under by now," Dean snarled. "And stop calling me Pretty."

"Dean," John warned. Dean knew he needed the two men's help and threatening one of them wasn't the best way to go about it but Tucker just brought out the worst in him. Still, Dean catered to his father's wishes and backed down. "Let's go inside," John said. Dean made sure he was the last one in, behind Tucker.

At first glance, one might question the men's relation to one another. Dean still questioned it actually, convinced it was the same man that had been split between good and evil. The brother's faces were the same, as was their build but the apparel was quite a stark contrast. Jonas as expected wore the priest robes. His naturally sandy blonde hair was neatly combed back and his green eyes twinkled with a gentle curiosity and warmth.

Tucker, on the other hand, looked like something Dean should be hunting not asking for help. The man's natural hair colour had long since been covered with red and black streaks and his green eyes carried only mischievous greed and cold lust for anything he desired. That, added to the long black coat the man wore over dark baggy jeans and a tight black short sleeve shirt, made the man look anything but trustworthy.

Twin brothers, with absolutely nothing in common… except for their strong belief in their respective faiths.

"Lunar Sprites?" Tucker said suddenly. "You've been holding out on me Jonas, you didn't tell me I'd get to meet some Sprites!" As they four men had sat down on the couches, Bryson and his friends had come in from outdoors. Immediately however they halted and looked at the overzealous newcomer with concern and curiosity.

"Hey," Dean snapped, drawing the Tucker's attention, "You don't go near them, you do and you have to deal with me."

"I stole your car Pretty," Tucker smiled. "I didn't eat your first born." Then the man leaned forward toward the Sprite's who stood on the floor nearest Dean's couch. "You five are awfully far from home aren't you?"

"Not far enough that we can't call reinforcements," Oryx said calmly. Tucker laughed and sat up again. With one solid wicked glare to Dean he looked back over to John.

"So where is your boy wonder John? Has he cut angry swaths of destruction through villages yet or is he still just at the angry teen stage?" he asked.

"Sam's 23," Dean snapped.

"Dean," his father warned again. Dean glared at his father, not sure why the man felt it necessary to let Tucker have his fun. "Why don't you go wake Sam up and bring him in here while I explain the situation properly?"

Dean was more then happy with the excuse to leave the room and get away from Tucker. Just as he went to stand Dewy had made the mistake of getting a hair to close to the other couch. Tucker snatched up the little Sprite and immediately everyone, including John and Jonas were on alert.

Dean… was… livid.

"Put him down," Dean snarled. Dewy was slightly afraid though his face remained defiant. Tucker looked closely at the Sprite and turned the creature upside down then right side up again.

"I'll rip off your freaking arms and beat you to death with them!" Dewy growled as he tried to free his arms clearly to no avail.

"Curious and fiesty little things," Tucker said ignoring the threat. "Capable of powers humans could only dream about. You know…" Before Tucker could get out another word he was airborne and pinned against the far wall. The shock of it all caused him to release the Sprite and caused Jonas to jump to his feet in shock.

"Where is it? Where is it?" Jonas exclaimed looking around them frantically waiting for something to spring from the shadows.

"Not it Jonas," John sighed. "Him… it's Dean." Jonas and Tucker's looks of absolute shock mirrored one another to a T. Dean didn't care however as he moved closer to his victim and smiled when he felt fear come from Tucker.

"Sam's not the only one around here with some supernatural pull Agis, I'd watch yourself," Dean smiled.

"Let him go Dean," John said. "We have work to do." Dean held on a bit longer before unceremoniously dropping the Satanist to the floor. Tucker quickly righted himself and took a few steps toward his brother and John.

Dean turned to go wake Sam when Tucker's thoughts came wafting through, clear as a bell.

'_Well at least I'm not interested in his car anymore.' _Over his shoulder Dean could see the growing smirk on the man's face and felt the fear draining away. Groaning, Dean realized he'd just given the man one more reason to harass him.

Sam was still fast asleep when Dean entered the room, the only one not up yet, which was slightly surprising considering the ruckus the rest of them had been making. But as peaceful as his brother looked and as safe as Dean felt with his brother like that, he had to be woken up.

"Sam," Dean said. He approached the bed to give his brother a little shake but Sam's eyes instantly popped open and he sat up like he'd been electrocuted. Dean stepped back unsure of why his brother was so confused. Then Sam looked at Dean.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Wake you up?" Dean replied. Sam shook his head rapidly and lowered it into his hands.

"I couldn't wake up," he replied. "I heard you come in my room, I heard the car pull up, I heard the others… I couldn't wake up. It felt like… it felt like you wouldn't let me wake up." Dean's thoughts wandered back to his conversation with Bryson. The idea that Dean had the power to control his brother or at least, be immune to Sam's own abilities.

"Because I'm the big brother," Dean smiled happily, "And I know what's right." Sam looked at him as if he'd gone crazy.

"Are you serious?" he asked. Dean stood up a bit straighter and beamed triumphantly.

"Hell yes I am," he replied. "Don't make me mentally knock your ass out again." For a moment it looked as though Sam was terribly confused but then a look of comprehension washed over his face and soon there after, a smile.

"Thanks Dean," he said. "I actually do feel rested."

"Good," Dean replied. "Now get up Sancho, it's time to fight some windmills."

"What?"

"Never mind," Dean smiled.

Almost two hours later, and after some breakfast, the cabin of the living room had been transformed into a hybrid altar of sorts.

"Louise is going to have a heart attack," Sam said suddenly. For the most part, eating and setting up had been in silence. Everyone knew what this ritual meant and what was riding on it to succeed. Dean was sure they all had their separate reasons for hoping everything went well but knew everyone was thinking about Sam. Even Tucker had shot some wary looks toward the young man once or twice.

"We'll fix it after," Dean said. "She wont even know we were here."

"Baring the end of the world that is," Tucker added helpfully. A wave of guilt and sadness emitted from Sam causing Dean to turn toward Tucker angrily.

"Shut up Agis," he hissed. Tucker raised his hands innocently and went back to setting himself up.

On the center of the floor there was a devils trap painted on the floor. It was by far the largest they'd ever made as it encompassed nearly the entire main room floor. In the center of the trap was a chair draped with a holy cloth from Jonas and a satanic cloth from Tucker. Surrounding the chair were several various religious artifacts from both twins.

"Kind of strange," Tucker continued, knowing he was just getting on everyone's nerves. "Seeing all these things together eh brother? Who'd would have thought we'd be able to work together so well?" Jonas raised an eyebrow as he pulled a final item from the sack he'd brought in from the car.

"Now if only you'd renounce Satan," he said seriously. Tucker laughed and pulled out a water bottle filled with a dark crimson liquid… Dean shuddered.

"Please tell me that's not what I think it is," he said.

"It's only animal blood Pretty," Tucker replied. Jonas took the bottle from his brother and poured some into the chalice he'd pulled out. Then John passed him a flask of holy water. After quickly muttering some Latin words, Jonas poured the holy water in with the blood.

Dean watched as the two liquids almost immediately divided themselves to either side of the chalice and both began to boil in discontent. Jonas looked up at Tucker in annoyance.

"You're not helping," he sighed. "Say the incantation so they'll mix." Rolling his eyes Tucker picked up the chalice held his hand over it and muttered a dark language that sounded almost like Latin but with much harsher tones and sharper words.

The two liquids began to merge but it was several second before they stopped bubbling in protest. When they did Tucker turned to Sam and pointed to the chair.

"You probably want to sit down for this," Tucker smirked. Sam frowned but went to sit in the chair.

Dean suddenly felt hesitant about the whole ritual as John and Tucker proceeded to tie Sam to the chair. It wasn't that he didn't think it could work, it was that he was concerned what the after result would do to his brother.

"There, comfy?" Tucker asked as he and John finished tying Sam down. Sam looked at him and scowled.

"I'm starting to understand why Dean doesn't like you," he replied.

"Atta boy Sam," Dean added. Sam smiled a weak smile but faded when John stepped outside the circle.

"I don't know if I can do this," Sam said honestly. "What if… what if it doesn't work?"

"Sam," John said firmly. "We'll make it work, we wont let anything happen to you." When John Winchester made a promise regarding the supernatural, he never failed to make good on it. Another reason why Dean was glad his father was around at the moment.

"Let's get her done shall we boys?" Tucker smiled. "Down the hatch Sam, cheers!" Dean wanted to throw the man across the room as he practically force fed Sam the vile mix in the chalice but remembered it was all in Sam's best interest that they do this right.

When the mix was down Sam gagged a little and looked quite pale.

"That was disgusting," he heaved.

"Got to get the insides too," Tucker replied.

"Tuck, get out of the circle," Jonas ordered. Tucker complied and stepped out. Both he and Jonas opened their respective books of prayers and incantations and stood on either sides of the room.

"Wait." Dean turned toward the kitchen where the five Sprites had reemerged. For a moment Dean had almost forgotten they were still in the cabin but now it seemed they all looked very determined, even Bryson.

"What is it?" John asked.

"Precautionary measures," Bryson replied. One by one, the five Sprites each went to a point on the pentagram inside the devil's trap. Dean's concern grew even more.

"Bryson… are you sure?" he asked.

"Let's do this Dean, once and for all let's help Sam," Bryson replied. Dean didn't need to be empathic to see the look of complete gratitude on his brother's face so he stood back and shrugged.

"Okay," he sighed.

"Right," Jonas said taking a deep breath. "You and John might want to take a few steps back." John put a hand on Dean's shoulder drawing him to the farthest wall of the room.

"You ready to do this?" John asked looking at Sam.

"No but that doesn't matter does it?" the youngest Winchester replied weakly.

"Not really," Tucker smirked.

"On the count of three, Dean let go," Jonas said. "1, 2... 3!" Dean took a deep breath then concentrated hard and soon felt the barrier start to come down and eventually disappear. The sight before him was awesome as Sam twisted violently in his chair and started to transform into an unworldly beast. His hair lost all it's colour and his skin paled, then his eyes snapped open, the red and yellow had never before looked so vicious.

"You humans," Sam hissed. "Pathetic, did you actually think this ritual would stop me?"

"Actually," Dean sighed. "Yes." It looked as though Sam might break free from his restraints when suddenly a blue mist enveloped him. Sam's wild demonic eyes looked around him in confusion then narrowed in on the sprites on the edges of the trap.

"I made you creatures! I am your supreme and this is how you thank me?" he snapped. Thankfully the sprite's ignored him and kept concentrating on what they were doing.

Jonas started reciting the holy ritual for an exorcism but all it seemed to be doing was making Sam angry.

"This is my world!" Sam growled in a voice not his own. "This is MY universe! I moved the stars and planets to exactly the right place and you ruined it! You creatures human or not! You defiled my great vision and bastardized what was meant to be! You all must end!"

Despite being slightly terrified, Dean had noticed a powerful thunderstorm had kicked up outside the cabin. The rain ferociously pelted the windows while the room lit up with lightening.

"It's not working!" Jonas yelled over all the noise. "Tucker, at the same time!" Tucker who's face finally bore the look of a man who was close to death nodded rapidly as he looked down at his book. Once again Jonas started up, this time, with Tucker following close behind.

"Dad…" Dean said cautiously. John's only response was to tighten his grip on Dean's shoulder.

Suddenly the big bay window of the cabin shattered as a large branch came mercilessly through it, narrowly missing Tucker and one of the sprites on the floor. Tucker stopped his incantation but only for a second before looking more determined then every to get through with it.

Dean could feel the rising emotions, it was starting to make him feel slightly sick. Everyone's panicked thoughts came rushing to him all at once and made his knees feel weak.

"Dean?" John called. Though the man was right next to him, the noise of the storm forced John to yell. "Dean what's wrong?"

"I can't…" Dean was at a loss for words. The emotions and thoughts were hitting him to hard, and for some reason, he wasn't able to block it like he had been before.

'_Dean! Help!'_

"Sam," Dean whispered to himself.

"All of you will die! You can't do this to your god, your creator! I _MADE_ you!" Sam screamed over the noise.

'_Dean please, help me!'_ Just as Dean thought he's knees would buckle and he'd no longer be able to take the punishment being doled out to him. Jonas and Tucker finished up the last few words of their incantations.

"Nooooooooooooooo!" Sam screamed. His scream was so powerful and so unnatural that almost everything in the room made of glass, shattered.

And suddenly everything was still… not just still… frozen. Dean had shut his eyes to protect himself from glass but when he opened them he was stunned. It was almost like time had stopped, but for some reason, he was still going. Both Tucker and Jonas looked like they were falling backward propelled by some invisible force. The five sprite's on the floor were already airborne in various directions taken by the same force.

In an odd loss of sanity and composure, Dean snickered and mentally moved the couch from behind Tucker over behind Jonas making sure there was a cushion for the man and placed a pillow to catch each of the Sprites. Two for Bryson.

Turning, he found his father looked as though he had been protecting Dean when everything had stopped. John Winchester could be a hardass but when it came down to it, his boys were what mattered.

"Well this is interesting." Dean jumped and spun around only to find Sam standing up out of the chair. Well, sort of, it was like Sam's spirit was stepping _out_ of his body. The binds holding his body seemed to simply faze through his spirit like nothing.

"Sam?" Dean asked. Sam looked from his body up at Dean but as he did a dark whirlwind started to rise around him.

"Dean what's happening to me?" Sam asked in fear. "What is this?"

A booming voice broke free from the dark whirlwind and made Dean's blood go cold.

"If I can't have this vessel, neither can he!"

"No!" Dean cried. He'd be damned if he'd come this far only to loose his brother once again.

"Dean!" Sam begged. The whirlwind started racing faster and faster enveloping Sam's spirit. Dean could feel the panic but wasn't sure if it was his or Sam's that was stronger. His brother, the one he'd pulled from the fire all those years ago. The one who'd left his girlfriend behind to hunt again with him. The one who'd taken numerous hits and gone out of his way to save him over the years. Dean one, true best friend in the world was being taken from him.

"SAMMY!" Dean yelled. Before he had even thought about what it was he was doing, Dean lunged at the whirlwind. The blackness had almost completely overcome Sam when Dean punched through it with a strength he didn't think he had.

In seconds Dean was almost surprised when his hand connected with something solid enough to grab onto. And grab on he did, with all his might Dean clutched Sam's arm and pulled.

"You can't have him!" Dean yelled. "He's too good for you!" The struggle was quite taxing but Dean knew he couldn't give up, he refused to. He knew the second he let go of his brother's spirit, it would be lost forever. The power would go with it as it had been separated by the ritual from Sam's body but that just wasn't good enough for Dean.

'_Pull Dean, you're mommy's little tough guy, you can do this.'_ Dean wasn't sure if he was going completely crazy or not but he could have sworn he felt a second set of hands reach into the darkness with him and start pulling. Finally, Sam's arm came through the swarm and soon, his shoulder and then his head.

Dean laughed, knowing he was winning but also knowing he was seconds away from not having anymore strength.

"This is far from over!" the booming voice hissed. "There will always be good and evil and there will always be a chance for me to rise again!"

"Oh. SHUT. UP!" Dean snarled. All at once Sam's entire body came through the swarm and with a piercing, deafening wail of anger it split into one white cloud and one black one. Both dissipating in every which direction.

However the moment they separated they caused a title wave of aggressive power that Dean hadn't been prepared for. Time suddenly resumed and while everyone else landed fairly without harm; Dean flew from the circle, out the smashed bay window and several yards into the chilly lake waters.

Dean wanted to swim, he wanted to see if everyone was alright, _needed_ to see if everyone was alright but his body was exhausted. The emotions, the struggle, the physical and mental energy that had been used was too much. Dean watched as the surface of the water got farther and farther away until finally the overwhelming urge for oxygen was too great. He opened his mouth.

The water rushed in but he thankfully he was blissfully unconscious before he even realized, this was probably the final call for the ridiculously handsome, fun loving, skirt chasing, demon hunting, great Dean Winchester…

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TBC…

Oh wouldn't you just _hang me_ if I said that was the end? Ha ha… no there will be more, as for Dean's fate… well you'll have to wait and see. Alas, if the writers of CW can off John Winchester, I guess no one is safe… not even Dean… sigh!

Ha ha… stay tuned for the last and final chapter of this story. Shorter then the last story but did we really want to drag it out? Sammy needs to get better!

So I know it's the last chap coming up but I'll give you a tidbit for it anyway. Here you go;

… _"I wonder if the Emperor Honorious watching the Visigoths coming over the seventh hill could truly realize that the Roman Empire was about to fall. This is really just another page of history, isn't it? Will this be the end of our civilization? Turn the page."_

"_You really believe that's how life should be lived? Come what may?" John asked._

"_We can't look back dad, the past is behind us," he sighed. "and we can't be sure of the future. All we can do is live for today and hope what he do, doesn't bring about the end of the world again tomorrow." John looked at the sun setting on the horizon and oddly found himself thinking about how proud Mary would have been at that moment._

"_I can't believe you're my son," John smiled wistfully. The Winchester looked at him with a smirk._

"_Neither can I," he replied. "But hell, dad, we're stuck with each other anyway." John laughed and pulled his son into a hug, maybe life was still worth living._

So that's it… interestingly philosophical, ten points if you can guess where that quote comes from! Snicker… Read and review please!


	7. Turn the Page

-1Okay dudes and dudettes, last chapter, I had fun with this one and I hope you enjoy. Thanks for all my reviewers and don't worry, this wont be the last you hear of me!

Back to what… Dean in the lake was it?

Cheers, enjoy!

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The first thing Sam was aware of was a dull ache all over his body. The second thing he became aware of was the feeling of an immense burden that had been lifted from his shoulders and the third thing he became aware of… was seeing Dean get hurtled like a bale of hay from the cabin window.

'_Dean!' _Sam forced his tired eyes opened and looked around at the people and Sprites around him. Though it seemed everyone was for the most part alright, they were all still in a state of confusion and had yet to notice the missing Winchester.

"Dean!" Sam wailed. He tried to stand but suddenly became aware of the binds that held him sturdily to the chair. "Dean!" he wailed again. Finally from the far side of the room Sam spotted his father getting to his feet, rubbing his side. "Dad!" Sam tried.

John was immediately alert as he snapped his head up toward his son. His stance was defensive but his eyes were curious and wary.

"Sam?" he asked getting closer.

"Dad! Dean!" was all Sam could manage. The truth was the more awake Sam became the more he realized something was definitely wrong. The last thing he could clearly remember doing was hiking into the woods back in Kansas to stop the powers from destroying the Sprite's home. Judging by the foreign cabin around him and the surprising amount of strangers around him, Sam was sure there was something he'd missed.

John came up to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder looking intensely into his eyes.

"How do you feel son?" he asked. Sam shook his head, clearing the cobwebs and trying to find his voice again to make his father realize what was going on. His mind seemed jumbled however and confused. It was almost like the words and sentences were in his head but refused to come out right. Like he hadn't used his lips in connection with his brain in a long time.

"Dean," he moaned. Thankfully John looked around, his eyebrows nearly jumped off his forehead as he quickly stood up and scanned the area.

"Dean!" he called. The two other men in the room, strangers to Sam, stood up and he was able to see the two men, although dressed differently, were identical twins. One man bore a soar sneer while the other man looked concerned.

"John where's Dean?" the concerned twin asked.

"I don't know," John replied. "He was hear one second and gone the next. Almost like he vanished." Sam was starting to get a bit agitated. God knows what kind of injuries Dean was in and all these idiots could do was sit around with their thumbs up their bums.

Sam struggled to free himself drawing everyone's attention, exactly what Sam hadn't wanted.

"Untie… me…" he slurred. They all closed in around him before John reached out tentatively.

"Son we need to make sure it's really you before…"

"DEAN!" Sam hollered. The three men looked at one another quizzically.

'_How can you be this stupid dad? Are you that freaking blind? Look at the smashed window!'_ Sam's thoughts screamed. _'Dean… god Dean why can't I get this right?' _After a few more seconds of struggling Sam opened his eyes and was shocked to find Bryson climbing onto his lap with the help of two other Sprites.

"Bryson?" he managed incredulously. Looking closer he was horrified to find the small Sprite's wing was badly damaged, how or when that had happened, he had no idea.

The small Sprite carefully inspected him almost as if searching for something in his eyes. Even more confusing was the fact that the three men, John and the twins, seemed to be waiting intently for the little Sprite's final word.

"Bryson?" the concerned twin asked. "Is he okay?" Sam realized if he panicked the little Sprite would take longer to decide what was what. So instead, Sam remained perfectly still, silently pleading with the Sprite to release him.

Bryson turned to the three men and the other Sprites.

"He's fine," he replied solemnly.

"I hear a 'but' in there," said the other twin. It was the first time Sam had heard the not so friendly looking twin speak.

"But he doesn't remember a thing," Bryson replied. Sam was more then concerned when all those in the room, human and Sprite alike, took a step back in shock.

"Nothing?" John asked. Whether he was asking Sam or Bryson it was unclear but one thing was clear…

"DEAN!" Sam yelled again.

"Yeah, where is Pretty anyway?" the darker twin asked. John went to untie Sam from his binds while shrugging.

"I'm not sure," he replied. "But I think Sam does." No sooner had John released Sam from his binds did the youngest Winchester leap to his feet…

… and come crashing down to the hardwood floor. Momentarily stunned, Sam looked incredulously at his body as if it were some strange foreign element he'd never seen before.

"You're still weak Sam," Bryson said, suddenly appearing next to him. "Your body, your mind, your spirit, it all needs time to pull itself together again. You haven't been yourself for a while now." Sam looked at the Sprite blinking as though he didn't understand what was going on but he knew what was going on. Although he didn't have specifics, he knew he'd done something to warrant being tied down and Dean was not at his side being Mr. Big Brother.

Sam felt tears of exertion welling up in his eyes as he tried again to get to his feet only succeeding in tangling the two limbs and tripping yet again. Angrily he pounded the floor with his fist as his father's comforting arm came over him.

"Well find Dean," John said soothingly. "But let's take care of you first okay?"

"NO!" Sam cried, his words were slowly coming back to him. "Dean… danger… window!" he pleaded.

When John first saw Sam looking at him with big confused eyes he was worried his son didn't remember anything at all. Then Bryson had confirmed that although Sam didn't remember anything since Kansas, he was going to be okay. And for a brief moment John allowed his old tired soul to be relieved for a second. But then he'd seen the struggle Sam was having, the tears welling up in the boys eyes and immediately knew, Sam knew something the rest of them didn't.

Then Sam had managed three words that send John straight back into the panicked loss he'd felt before the incantation to free his youngest.

His heart stopped, then exploded as he looked away from his floundering son to the window that had been broken by the large tree branch. It wasn't possible that Dean could have gotten thrown that far, no one else had gone farther then a few feet. Even the Sprite's had remained in the room, it wasn't possible… was it?

"Stay with Sam," John said immediately. He knew if nothing else, Jonas would respect his request.

John gave Sam a stern nod then leapt to his feet and headed for the back deck. Outside everything seemed still and peaceful, the drops of rain were now tripping gently from the tree branches. Nothing at all seemed to be greatly disturbed.

"Dean!" John yelled. There was no response so he opened his mouth to yell again but stopped short. He was a trained hunter, he saw the slid marks, he saw the ripples in the water, and he knew, he just knew… "Tucker get out here and help me!" he yelled. Just as Tucker appeared from the back door, John took off toward the lake.

With a perfect dive from the short dock leading to the water John was instantly struck with the icy waters. It was such a shock to the system that it took a few seconds before he realized he was wasting valuable time.

After a few moments of blind searching, John felt his lungs plead for air so he surfaced. Tucker was standing on the dock looking on curiously and had John really been looking he would have seen a slight sparkle of concern.

"Anything?" Tucker asked.

"Not yet," John panted. "Get lots of warm blankets ready!" He sucked in a deep breath and dove back underneath the murky surface. As John searched, he could feel his heart aching with fear and sadness. If ever there was a time to believe in prayer, now was it, now was the time, he knew, to ask for one more day, one more hour, one more chance with his eldest son that he'd failed so badly thus far.

Dean was a king among men and it had taken John much to long to realize that. The eldest had always done what was asked of him, no matter how big the task and he'd always looked after Sam when John had been to revenge consumed and grief ridden to do it himself.

There were many times recently that John had realized he didn't deserve his two sons that Mary had honored him with. The two boys were gifts, rays of sunshine in the dark life of a bitter, lonely man and he had neglected that. Sure he'd loved the boys and had only wanted to protect them and have them protect themselves but they didn't always need a drill sergeant, they needed a father as well.

John's lungs were starting to yearn for more air but he refused to give up. He knew that if he surfaced, it would be the last seconds he'd have to find his son and be able to help him.

'_Please Mary, please help me find him. Come on Dean, give me something… anything!' _John's mind begged. Then suddenly John felt strange, his lungs felt like they'd been refilled with air and the murky waters became clear. It was an odd feeling but John was sure of one thing, he was being guided and somehow he knew, his sons were leading him. He could feel both Sam and Dean, though considerably weaker on the latter, urging him onward. To reach out just a little farther and to grab on, grab hold…

… Dean's hand was there, and for a moment, John was so surprised he'd found it that he almost didn't react. But he did, he grabbed hold and he pulled for all he was worth.

Breaking the surface of the water John immediately sucked in a deep breath and began swimming toward shore. Out of the water on land again, John had a new found strength as he lifted his sons body into his arms and ran him back up toward the house.

The moment he was inside the house he lay Dean on the floor and went to start CPR.

"John you don't have the air," Jonas and Tucker said almost at the same time. Before John could comprehend what was going on, he was being pushed out of the way so Satanist and priest could perform the live saving procedure. John fell back onto his heels and ran his hands through his wet hair. He couldn't loose another family member because he knew his heart just wouldn't be able to take the strain any longer.

Something he'd never told his boys was that soon after Mary's death, he'd suffered a minor heart attack that had left him in the hospital for a few days. Thankfully Sam was to young to remember and Dean was to busy taking care of Sam to realize they'd suddenly been taken in by Pastor Jim.

' 9-1-1 what's your emergency?' John was snapped from his thoughts as a cell phone was jammed up against his ear.

"Dad please," Sam breathed. John looked at the middle Winchester who seemed to be regaining himself, at least enough so that he could dial a phone.

'Is anyone there? What is the emergency?' said the operator. John coughed and nearly choked on his own fear but he quickly grabbed the phone from Sam.

"My son, he nearly drown in that freak storm, we need an ambulance, please he'd not breathing…"

'Okay sir, just give me an address and we'll send someone right away.' John quickly rattled off the details and hung up to panicked to think he should leave the line open in case something worse happened.

"Come on Dean," he whispered quietly. At some point during the emergency phone call Sam's hand and slipped into John's. But John wasn't sure who the hand was more comfort for.

Sam paced back and forth, back and forth. His legs still tingled slightly and his head was swimming but after six hours of waiting, he'd regained most of his footing and all of his speech. Not that it was doing him any good at the moment.

"Sam please," John sighed. "Sit down." Sam looked at his father and stopped pacing, the older man's face showed almost as much fatigue as Sam was sure the man was feeling.

"Sorry," he replied. He took a seat in the hospital waiting room next to his father. Seconds after his father had made the call to the ambulance dispatcher had Dean's body arched to life and started spluttering out lake water. Though Dean hadn't regained consciousness fully, it was enough at the moment, to see his chest breath air.

But after seeing Dean wrapped up in a few dozen blankets and realizing just how pale he was, Sam knew the danger was far from over. Now, hours later, there'd been little word of his brother's condition and he was starting to get antsy.

That and the fact that he still couldn't believe what had transpired over the past several months as his father had explained it. Everything was just too much to comprehend. Things from what Sam had done to Bryson, right up to Dean being a mechanical engineer and having powers of his own.

"What you've told me… Dad I… I just don't know what to make of it all," Sam said honestly. "I mean, to think that I was capable of doing so many… horrible things. I… what kind of person am I?" John looked up at Sam and surprisingly he smiled a warm smile.

"You're a gentle soul with strong will power Sammy," John replied. "I've taken both you boys for granted and nearly lost you and Dean. You couldn't control those powers because they weren't meant entirely for you. Bryson and his friends know that, they're just glad you're you again." Sam shook his head, he'd never be able to forgive himself even if everyone around him did.

"I've caused so much trouble in my families life… and everyone around me," Sam said quietly. "I don't deserve you and Dean, dad. I'm sorry." The two men sat next to one another, watching nurses, orderlies and doctors walk passed. The hospital smells and sounds had almost become a second ambiance to the Winchesters. They no longer heard or smelt anything but rather waited for the man or woman in scrubs or lab coat to come out and tell them that yet again, the Winchester family had averted death.

And with each and every time, Sam wasn't sure if that was such a good thing. He sat back and sighed, running his hands through his hair. It was longer again, physical evidence that time had passed without his knowing. He's missed so much, and apparently, from what he'd heard, wasn't sure how Dean was going to react once they were reunited… _if_ they were reunited.

"This is my fault dad," Sam said breaking the few minutes of silence. "Our lives, the way we are, it's my fault. You wouldn't have had to be a General instead of a dad if I had never been born."

"Sam." John's voice was low, like a warning tone with no oomph behind it. Sam looked at his father, curious to know what the man was going to say. How he was going to have to justify what was happening or how he was going to honestly with all seriousness say no one was to blame. "This isn't your fault…" the man began. Sam rolled his eyes and slouched,

"Dad…"

"It's your mothers." There was one other time Sam had been shocked and horrified as much as he was at that moment. It was the day of his six years old and saw his very first, very real, very scary 'bogey monster' or as Dean would later explain, a poltergeist. Sam remembered the day quite clearly. He was in a school play, one that he'd learned his lines for and had practiced for weeks.

Stunningly, his father and Dean both sat in the front row as little six year old Sammy marched onto the stage guised as an apple and announced to the audience, 'I am an apple. I am part of the four food groups. I taste good and make a good healthy snack.' Dean had beamed even John had let his weathered face crinkle into a smile.

It was a good memory, right up until Sam had gone behind stage and got turned around in the new school. Soon he was lost and in an old storage basement. Then the temperature in the room had dropped and an unearthly wail caused little Sammy to shiver to his little apple core.

He had turned and behind him was the most gruesome, transparent, semi-headless, ghost boy that Sam had ever seen. His scream could have woken even more dead but it was cut short by the loud blast of a shot gun and his father screaming, 'Sammy get down!'

It took three days before Sammy would speak, two days before he'd listen to reason and another week before he actually accepted the truth from his brother. His first sighting of the Supernatural, the first time his father let him down for being somewhere not because it was the right thing to do but because it was a job and the first time he'd believed Dean was Mr. Big Brother, Captain Awesome was essentially, Sam's safety net.

Sam had been that shocked, that stunned, that completely blinded to anything else but what had occurred…

… similar to how he felt now. John Winchester loved his Mary with every fiber of his being. He loved the woman so much he forfeit his relationship with sons, he devoted his life to hunting the supernatural and gave up any chance of ever being remotely close to normal. And now, he was blaming that one woman, his be all end all, for everything they'd every suffered through.

"Buh?" was all Sam managed. He'd been staring at his father for a few seconds and knew he needed to say something but nothing intelligent would come out. John gave a sad smile and shook his head.

"I know," he sighed. "What kind of jerk am I that I blame our tortured lives on the one woman I swore to avenge? But the truth is Sammy, she knew about her family ancestry and undoubtedly, she knew mine too. Her grandparents would have told her. She knew our children would be… different, powerful and you know what? She took that chance and you know what that proves to me son?" Sam snapped his head back.

"That we are definitely not the Brady's?" he snorted. John laughed but then shook his head again.

"It proves to me that your mother loved me that much. She had that much faith in me that I'd be able to take care of you boys no matter what the odds against us. So none of this is your fault Sam, it's your mothers and I wouldn't have changed anything even if I had known the truth," John explained. Sam looked at his shoes and contemplated what his father had just told him. It was amazing to all of a sudden have an entirely new perspective on things.

It was as though this time, this time he finally believe that maybe, the worlds problems weren't all on him. Strange how all Sam's life he'd believed that Dean was his rock, the only thing grounding him to reality and keeping him safe and sane, while it was really the words of his father that he had needed all along to swage his guilt.

All at once the world was different for Sam and he'd never seen it coming, especially not from his father. Sam smiled sadly at his revelation.

"I wonder if the Emperor Honorious watching the Visigoths coming over the seventh hill could truly realize that the Roman Empire was about to fall. This is really just another page of history, isn't it? Will this be the end of our civilization? Turn the page," he said with a shrug.

"You really believe that's how life should be lived? Come what may?" John asked. Sam looked at his father and took in the curious look.

"We can't look back dad, the past is behind us," he sighed. "and we can't be sure of the future. All we can do is live for today and hope what we do, doesn't bring about the end of the world again tomorrow." Sam chanced a glance at the window of the waiting room, the sun was setting on the horizon. When he turned back to his father, John was smiling and shaking his head.

"Your mom would be so proud of you," John smiled wistfully. Then he laughed, "I can't believe you're my son." The Winchester looked at him with a smirk.

"Neither can I," Sam replied. "But hell, dad, we're stuck with each other anyway." John laughed and pulled his son into a hug. Sam felt tears of happiness and fatigue well up in his eyes, maybe life was still worth living.

"Family of Daniel Walker?" Sam snapped his head from his father's embrace and looked up at the woman in scrubs. He and John stood drawing the woman's attention. She smiled a genuine smile and somehow, that was enough for Sam.

Dean felt like every muscle in his body was on fire. He felt as weak as a new born kitten and half as useful. Upon opening his eyes he would have smiled had a tube not been forced down his throat. His brother sat next to him with his feet up on the edge of the bed chatting lively with his father who stood opposite him. Both men looked years younger then Dean had seen in a while and the wash of calm emotions instantly settled any and all pain that he was feeling. Dean let his eyes slip shut knowing his family was there to watch his back.

**Two weeks later**

"Hey Sam."

"What?"

"Catch!" Sam spun around just in time to see his duffle bag fly into his arms. The problem was, the duffle had been on the porch, while Dean had been standing next to his father's truck. Sam stumbled with the bag a but and ended up dropping it on the ground outside the cabin.

"Dean will you ever grow up?" Sam growled. It had taken them an entire week and a half to clean up and secure all that had been damaged or destroyed in the cabin due to the supernatural. Extensive damage that had shocked Sam to see first hand.

"With superpowers Sammy?" Dean said walking up to him with a smile. "Not on your bean stalk life." Sam rolled his eyes and then looked up to the front door of the cabin where Jonas and Tucker were emerging with there father.

"Yeah but superpowers still wont protect you from that," Sam snickered pointing at Tucker. Dean's face instantly fell into a sneer of distaste while Tucker's face, grew into the biggest shit eating grin Sam had ever seen.

The whole thing had become the funniest thing Sam had ever experienced in his life. When Dean found out it was Tucker who had given him mouth to mouth, he was sick for an entire day. Since that moment and since the moment Dean returned to the cabin and found out Tucker was still hanging around, it had been none stop between the two. Tucker promised to never, _ever_ let him live down the fact that he had saved Dean's life.

"So Pretty," Tucker said sauntering up to the two brothers. "You give me your car and I never mention the life saving thing again, deal?" Dean let out a slightly feral growl, the Impala turned on and the engine revved.

"I think she's quite happy where she is," he replied. "But…" The Impala shut off and Dean lowered his head pinching the bridge of his nose. "T, thank… you." Tucker's eyes grew wide as saucers and his grin got that much more wicked.

"We'll see each other again Pretty, I don't doubt that," the Satanist laughed. He headed over toward the minivan while Jonas walked passed the two boys with a smile on his face.

"Take care you two," he smiled. "And go easy on your dad huh? You're giving that man gray hairs." Dean and Sam laughed then waved as the two twins climbed into their vehicle and left.

When John came out of the house, Dean and Sam started laughing even harder. Bryson sat in the man's hand, Oryx and Lorne on his shoulders and Kat and Dewy sticking out of his pockets. John walked up to his sons and raised an eyebrow.

"They've done a lot for us," he said as if that was reason enough.

"Oh man," Dean snorted. He slapped Sam on the back and doubled over. Sam shook his head and smiled as the Sprite's flew from their posts and lifted Bryson. They flew in the open window of the Impala and into the back seat. Dean and Sam had agreed to drive the Sprites home, it was the very least they could do.

Once they were settled Sam moved away from his still laughing brother and annoyed father, to help the Sprite's put on their seatbelt. All the Sprite's looked up at him with big, curious eyes waiting for him to speak the first words. Sam sighed,

"I'd say that I'm sorry but I really don't think that would make up for the pain and trouble I've caused you. Especially you Brys," he said. He lowered his head, not really sure why he was saying anything but knowing it would take the rest of his life to make up for his actions. When he looked up again he took a deep breath, "I hope this hasn't soured you from humans on a whole, most of us are pretty decent if you give us a chance. Look at Dean and my dad… what I'm saying I guess is… well, keep watching Tv and having wild parties guys. Don't change because I screwed up so badly."

After a few seconds the four sprites turned to Bryson. Slowly but surely, Bryson's tired face grew into it's normal mischievous smirk.

"What happened was crappy but you haven't turned us of humans Sam," he smiled. "You guys make beer and pizza… how could we _ever_ turn our backs on you?"

"Besides," Dewy shrugged. "Your not human."

"That too," Bryson snickered. The other Sprites let out there own snickers before Bryson went somber again and looked back to Sam. "My wing will grow back," he said. "Once I get back to my home and rest more. I forgive you Sam, hopefully one day you can forgive yourself." Deep in Sam's heart he took in the small Sprite's words hit home and he nodded.

"Sammy?" Sam stood up and turned to face his father and brother, smiling for once at his nickname.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Dad has a proposition for us and I think… I know you wouldn't believe it if you heard it from me," Dean smirked. Sam looked between the two curiously then focused on his father.

"Dad?" he asked.

"Once a month, three days, we all meet at Missouri's place," John said. "I know it's not much and it's not making up for the years of me not being there for you but…"

"…But it's enough dad," Sam cut him off. "Thanks."

"Sam, if you start a hug right now I swear I'm leaving your ass here," Dean scoffed. The Winchesters laughed but then moved toward their separate vehicles.

"End of the month boys, I'll see you then," John said as he climbed into his truck. Both waved and soon, there father was once again gone but this time… it wasn't bittersweet.

Sam and Dean stopped to say goodbye to Midge and thank her for her kindness. It was slightly hard for Sam to pretend like he knew what she was talking about when she said he was looking much healthier. He let it go however when Dean blushed slightly and shook his head.

Within minutes, they pulled onto the road and were on their way. They'd barely gone ten minutes when suddenly one of the Sprite's piped up.

"We leave this state without getting ice cream Winchester and I lunar dust your gas tank like there's no tomorrow," Oryx threatened. Dean rolled his eyes and Sam started laughing with the rest of the Sprites.

Ten minutes later, they pulled into a diner and got some chocolate ice cream.

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THE END

Thanks so much for reading this story, stay tuned for more WofOz stories a new one is in the works!


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